


The Witch and the Wolf

by rebekahdarian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alive Ito Pack, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Eventual Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Feels, Full Shift Werewolves, Humans Know Nothing, Ito Pack Mostly In Passing, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Original Character(s), Original Hale Character(s) - Freeform, Pack Dynamics, Panic Attacks, Past Stiles Stilinski/Original Character(s), Side OC death(s), Slow Build, Stiles Has Kids, Stilinski Fire, Tags may be added later, Witches, fear of water, stiles is human, strong emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:26:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebekahdarian/pseuds/rebekahdarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets a mysterious call from his ex-wife one day asking him to pick up his kids. She won't answer any of his questions and avoids him when he meets her to get them. The boys aren't keen to answer any of his questions either. That's when strange things begin to happen around the house, and things only escalate when his ex stops answering her phone. </p><p>((Indefinite Hiatus))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my wonderful best friend of over a decade [@gia279](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279) who has also been my cheerleader and support. I do not own Teen Wolf, or any of the artists, songs, companies, or devices that I mention within the story. :) More tags will be added as things happen in the written version, which is several chapters ahead of what is posted. I will update whenever the next chapter is done being beta'd. I try to update at least once a week :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all that I've written, it is unbeta'd, raw, and probably full of mistakes. I doubt I will be coming back to finish this, please read at your own risk :) If anyone would like to be a beta who can handle angsty stuff like this please email be (I believe my email is on my profile). While I love my beta, this isn't her cup of tea. :D

Stiles answered his phone on the third ring. “Thank you for calling Emeritus Senior Living, where our family is committed to yours. This is Stiles, how may I direct your call?”

He leaned back in his seat, taking a swig from his coffee cup, waiting for a response.

“Wow, that’s a mouthful. I’m half tempted to ask you to say it again.”

A wide smile cracked Stiles’s lips. 

“Molly, it’s nice to hear from you. I didn’t expect to hear from you until I’m supposed to get the kids.” He double checked the calendar on his desk. “Which isn’t until Friday.”

Friday marked the beginning of summer break and his time with the boys. 

There was a moment of silence, then, “I need you to pick them up early. I’ll meet you at The Dalles, but that’s as far as I can go. Meet us there at seven.”

Stiles felt his heart stutter. “Seven tonight?” His eyes darted to the clock. “The Dalles is three hours away and it’s already three thirty.” He shoved the papers on his desk into various drawers. “Molly, what’s going on?”

“If I tell you, then you and the kids won’t be safe. The Dalles is the farthest I can go. It’s the halfway mark. I’ll be there at seven.” The line went dead.

Stiles chugged the last of his coffee, grabbed the keys for the jeep, and was out the door before anyone in the office could question him. He’d have to finish the billing statements later.

***

The sun was still up when he pulled into the McDonalds parking lot just off the freeway.

Stiles parked in the almost the exact same spot every time he picked up the boys. But this time instead of being excited, he was anxious, jittery. Something was definitely wrong, he decided. He’d have to corner Molly before she left and demand answers. 

He fidgeted with the dials on the radio; after running through the presets, he turned it off in frustration. He glanced up just in time to see a familiar red Honda pull into the spot next to him.

Two brunette boys blinked and waved sleepily from the back seat, both in their pajamas. 

“Sam! Max!” Stiles greeted, getting out of the jeep. 

He pulled both boys into a tight hug when they got out.

Max yawned widely. “Dad, I’m hungry.”

Sam nodded and bumped his younger brother out of the way to get to Molly. 

Molly had just gotten out of the car, engine still running.

“Mom,” Sam said uncertainly.

“Be good,” Molly told him, kissing the top of his head. 

Stiles watched her do the same to Max before turning her electric blue eyes on him. 

“I’ll call you as soon as I can,” she said, rubbing a hand up and down Sam’s back in comfort.

Sam tugged at a crystal of some kind that hung on a string around his neck.

“I love you,” Molly said, already in her car before Stiles could open his mouth.

“Love you,” Sam and Max chorused, backing away so their mom could pull out of the parking spot.

“Molly!” Stiles yelled, realizing he hadn’t asked her what was going on.

Molly waved and mouthed ‘I’ll call you’ as she pulled onto the street.

Stiles stood stunned, staring after the car. His forehead wrinkled, trying to piece together what had just happened. 

“Dad,” Max looked up at him. “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too,” Sam said, still twisting the necklace between his fingers. 

Stiles nodded, trying to bring himself back to the present. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders and propelled them into McDonalds. “Let’s grab something before we leave.”

Sam and Max devoured their food and promptly asked for ice cream. They looked exhausted, Stiles noted, making the decision to not ask them at the moment if they knew what was going on. 

The boys held onto their McFlurries as they clambered into the back of Stiles’s jeep. Sam immediately helped Max buckle his booster seat before getting settled himself.

“Can you put the radio on preset 3?” Sam asked as they pulled onto the freeway.

“Huh?” Stiles looked at Sam, caught off guard by the question.

“Mom says her preset 1 is the same as your preset 3, and you’re a creature of habit,” Sam explained seriously, his blue eyes vibrant under his dark brown hair.

“I like 1,” Max agreed, kicking his feet to the beat of an unknown song.

Stiles turned the radio on and wondered if he should be offended that Molly thought he was a creature of habit or impressed she knew him that well still.

Shinedown began playing through the speakers. Max thumped his feet against the seat, bobbing his head to the beat of the music, and Sam relaxed against the car door, closing his eyes as he listened to the song.

Stiles wanted to ask if they were okay, but he bit his tongue. Sam’s breathing evened out, turning into the slow, deep breaths that marked sleep.

Max didn’t last much longer. After the second commercial he was slumped back in the booster seat, mouth wide and neck crooked at an odd angle.

***

The clock showed it was nearing midnight by the time Stiles pulled into his driveway, he turned off the jeep and glanced at Sam and Max. Both had slept the whole car ride, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to carry them both into the house.

Sam grumbled sleepily when Stiles unbuckled Max and picked him up, mindful not to hit his head against the jeep door.

“C’mon, kiddo.” Stiles said, holding a hand out to Sam. “The beds are waiting upstairs.”

Sam didn’t need any further prompting, he followed Stiles into the house, then didn’t wait to be told to go upstairs.

Stiles heard the creek of the mattress as Sam laid down, he bolted the front door before taking Max into the other bedroom.

***

Stiles rolled over sleepily, smacking his alarm clock blindly. He frowned in his sleep when the radio continued to play music. He was sure he had hit the snooze button. 

He hit the clock again. This time it flipped off the night stand and clattered to the floor, half under his bed.

Stiles muttered darkly, shoving himself to the edge of the mattress to try and grab the clock.

4:32 am flashed back at him.

He blinked hazily. His alarm wasn’t supposed to go off for another hour.

The music still played.

He looked around the room, his brain taking a few extra seconds to realize the sound was coming from downstairs.

“Kids are up,” he grunted, briefly wondering if they would be okay by themselves for another hour if he went back to sleep. A loud crash in the kitchen answered his question.

“ _I’m_ up,” he muttered, flinging his legs off the bed and rising to investigate the sound.

The crash was easy enough to identify. Max stood over an array of pots and pans scattered across the kitchen floor.

“Sorry,” he said when he saw Stiles standing in the threshold of the kitchen.

Stiles waved the apology off, still half asleep.

“Wake me up next time, please,” he said, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the bright lights in the kitchen and living room. 

He then looked around for the source of the music.

Sam stood in the center of the living room holding the Wii remote and searching through YouTube on the TV.

“How’d you get that hooked up to the WiFi?” Stiles asked.

He and Scott had fought with the damn thing for the last three months to hook it up without success. 

Sam paused the current song to find another. “I found the password in the silverware drawer,” Sam stated simply.

Before Stiles could ask why Sam had been digging through the silverware drawer Sam pointed to a bowl of cereal on the counter.

“I needed a spoon.” He looked up at Stiles as if to make sure that was okay.

Stiles nodded slowly, another question coming to mind. “Why are you up so early?” He looked from Max to Sam and back again, confusion slowly ebbing across his face.

“Getting ready for school,” Max said excitedly.

Sam said, “I already _told_ you, we don’t go to school here.”

Stiles shook his head. “True. Actually, you should be out for the summer, right?”

Again Sam looked at Max. “We are if we don’t have to go to school.”

Excitement sprang across both of their faces and Stiles decided it was too early for this conversation. 

“Why not go get dressed,” Stiles suggested. “I’ll get started on breakfast.” He watched Sam and Max walk past. “And showers later,” he added.

Sam tensed but didn’t say anything. He nodded hesitantly while Max charged up the steps two at a time.

“I want a bubble bath, not a shower!” Max cried when he hit the top of the steps, darting into his room to dig through the dresser.

Stiles began cooking eggs and had just finished when Sam reappeared, dressed and playing with the crystal necklace.

“I don’t want a bath,” Sam said, his face set in a blank mask.

“You don’t have to take one,” Stiles assured him, handing him a plate of eggs. He put a plate of bacon in the microwave before turning back to Sam.

“Do I have to wash my hair?” Sam blinked at him.

Stiles glanced at his hair and shook his head. “No, you can probably get away without washing it tonight.”

A sigh of relief washed over Sam’s body. “Okay.”

Max bounced into the room in a neon yellow shirt, purple basketball shorts, and a lime green baseball cap.

“I’m a rainbow!” he declared, holding up his blue sneakers with red laces.

Max didn’t wait for a response as he threw himself into a chair next to Sam and reached for the bacon Stiles was taking out of the microwave.

Sam helped Stiles clean up the dishes while Max disappeared into the living room to play with the Wii.

By the time 6:30am rolled around, Stiles felt as if he had been awake forever. 

“Go get a bag and put things in it to keep yourselves busy,” Stiles told Sam as he began getting ready for work. “Max, I can help you as soon as I’m done.”

“Are you taking us to work with you?” Sam asked, turning the TV off.

“Well, I can’t leave you two home alone.” Stiles grinned. “Coloring books, Nintendo, books, whatever you think you’ll want.”

“I can help Max,” Sam told him, taking Max by the hand and going upstairs.

Stiles hesitated; he could have helped Max himself, but the boys were already going into their rooms.

“Okay,” Stiles muttered to the empty stairs.

***

In hindsight, Stiles supposed asking a nine and a six year old to entertain themselves for eight hours was a stupid idea. He got about a fourth of the work done that he needed to do and the floor and desk in the office quickly became booby trapped with toys.

Twice he had stepped on matchbox cars and one of the boys had gotten marker on the desk, though neither admitted it.

Stiles let out a sigh of relief when they all piled back into the jeep.

“Where are we going now?” Sam asked.

“Home, but I need coffee first,” Stiles muttered.

Sam fell silent, staring out the window.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Sam informed him after a few minutes of concerned silence.

“Any time is a good time for coffee.” Stiles pulled into the Starbucks two driveways down and motioned for the boys to get out.

“Can I get a coffee?” they asked in unison.

Stiles froze, eyeing them for a second. “Mom gives you coffee?”

“Sometimes,” Sam said excitedly.

“How about a hot chocolate instead,” Stiles suggested, thinking it’d be unwise to actually give them coffee.

“Iced hot chocolate!” Max cried, bounding through the door in a flash of colors. “It’s summer, way too hot for hot chocolate.”

“Fine,” was all Stiles said as he slid up to the counter.

“Stiles!” a friendly voice called. “It’s a bit late in the afternoon to see you here.”

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles greeted.

“You want your usual?” Derek was already tapping on the computer screen. 

“Yes, and two,” he hesitated, “iced hot chocolates.” He looked at the boys wigging in excitement next to him. “You two sure you don’t want chocolate milk?” he finally asked, not seeing what the difference would be.

“No,” Max said, shaking his head sternly, eyebrows pulled down tightly. “Iced hot chocolate.”

Derek stilled, noticing the kids for the first time.

“How long have you had kids?” The question was out of Derek’s mouth before he seemed to realize it. Stiles noted the horrified look of _‘that’s not what I meant’_ and smiled.

He looked at Sam, “Ten years come August.”

Sam grinned, fidgeting with the necklace again. Stiles made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Derek smiled back. “Two iced hot chocolates coming up.”

“I’m a rainbow!” Max told Derek loudly, holding his arms out to show him the colors on his outfit.

Stiles pulled money out of his wallet while Derek directed his attention at Max.

“Be careful, leprechauns may come after you.” Derek’s smile widened.

“They won’t come within ten feet of me!” Max stated proudly, pushing hair from his eyes. “Sam will protect me.”

Sam glared at him. “Leprechauns aren’t real.” His eyes bored dangerously into Max’s.

Max took half a step away and Derek’s smile faltered.

“Your drinks will be right up,” he said.

Stiles thanked him, moving to the other end of the counter.

Max ducked his head under Sam’s stare, mouth pressed tightly shut.

While Sam and Max slurped their drinks Stiles pulled out his phone and began dialing Molly’s number from memory.

After the first ring it kicked him to voicemail, Molly’s voice began speaking. “I’m away from my phone right now, if you need me, leave me a message.” There was a long pause, then, “Stiles, I’ll call you when I can. Tell Sam and Max I love them.”

Stiles slammed his thumb down on the end button, momentarily wishing it was a phone he could slam shut or down and not a smart phone that would break at the thought.

“Mom didn’t answer?” Sam asked slowly, staring at Stiles from over his cup.

Stiles sighed. “No.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Baths then bed,” Stiles announced after dinner.

He had tried calling Molly three more times without success.

“Dad,” Sam began uneasily.

“I know,” Stiles said, holding out a hand to stop Max from charging up the steps and into the only bathroom. “You can go first.”

Sam’s shoulders hunched lower with each step toward the bathroom. He hesitated at the top of the stairs and turned, his face a mixture of fear and distress.

“No hair tonight,” Sam said softly.

“No hair,” Stiles agreed.

***

The next day, Stiles woke again to blaring music from the Wii. This time he decided to stick to his regular routine and swing by Starbucks on his way to work rather than after.

Derek took his order and Max and Sam introduced themselves.

Two hours later, Stiles realized sugary drinks before taking the boys to work was an even worse idea than no caffeine.

Marker magically ended up on the floor and the room was even more of a mess by the time they left.

Stiles had called Molly thirteen times by seven that evening and on his last attempt the phone went dead. He called again and a mechanical voice came on saying the phone was out of service.

By nine, he had given up calling. The boys had found a movie playing on Disney channel and were curled around him on the couch. The credits had just begun playing when he suggested they go to bed.

By Friday, Stiles had become used to being woken by Sam or Max turning on music downstairs. On Saturday he had even woken up before them and turned it on himself, still impressed they had managed to get the thing to work.

He compulsively checked his phone for messages from Molly only to be filled with dread each time he saw none.

On Monday he called off work when Max was bed bound by a migraine. Sam had stayed by Max’s side, offering him everything from food to company.

“Why are there lights?” Max asked, staring at Sam with half lidded eyes.

“It’ll stop soon,” Sam promised, his hand trailed over Max’s forehead.

Stiles watched in growing concern as Max shut his eyes again and began contemplating taking him to the emergency room.

By Tuesday night, Max’s headache still had not gone away and he could hardly open his eyes. Stiles packed an overnight bag for him and the boys just in case as he prepared to take Max to the hospital.

“They won’t find anything wrong,” Sam said from his position next to Max’s bed.

Stiles hesitated at certainty in Sam’s tone. Sam picked up Max’s hand and held it tightly between his own.

Stiles placed his own hand on Max’s forehead. He didn’t feel feverish, but when Stiles made contact, something felt _off_.

“How do you know?” Stiles asked.

His mind jumped from aneurysm to brain tumor as he stared at Max’s sleeping form.

“He’s like mom.” The words sounded faint and Stiles blinked, not understanding what Sam meant.

Did Molly get migraines? He couldn’t remember.

“What do you mean?” Stiles stared at him.

Sam shook his head. “Momma said not to tell.” His eyes fell back on Max. “He’ll be okay, probably by tomorrow.”

Stiles felt anger spring inside of him. Something was clearly wrong with Max, and if Sam knew what it was, he needed to speak up.

“Samson,” Stiles said sternly.

Tears began to fill Sam’s eyes as he shook his head again. “Mom said not to tell.”

Stiles wanted to yell, demand the information.

“Samson Adams.”

Sam cowed at the use of his middle name.

“You have five minutes to tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t!” Sam suddenly cried, the tears falling down his cheeks. “You can’t take him to the hospital though, they won’t find anything wrong. Trust me!”

Stiles’s eyes narrowed. “Your brother could be dying. There better be a good reason I’m not taking him to the hospital right _now_. You have three seconds to tell me what it is.”

“I can’t!” Sam gasped, frantically wiping at the tears on his face. “Mom made me swear. Max’ll be fine, but don’t take him to the hospital.” Sam hiccuped, gasping for air as he held onto Max’s hand.

Stiles stared at him a second longer before rising to his feet.

“Get your shoes on,” he told Sam sternly, gently picking Max up. He cradled Max like a baby as he made his way downstairs and do the car.

Sam cried all the way to the hospital, begging Stiles to turn around.

“They won’t find anything wrong!” he kept wailing.

Stiles sat in the emergency waiting room with Max on his lap and Sam next to him. Max stared at all the people around them, wincing whenever someone moved.

“Mr. Stilinski,” doctor called from the entrance of the hallway, a clipboard tucked beneath his arm.

Stiles stood up, gently pulling Sam behind him.

Sam clung to the stone around his neck as they entered a small room.

“I’m Dr. Deaton, what seems to be going on?”

Stiles motioned for Sam to sit in a chair.

He quickly explained Max’s headache and that it was now day two with no improvement.

“Sounds like a migraine,” Dr. Deaton agreed, stepping toward Max. “But let’s see.”

He lifted his hands, placing them on either side of Max’s jaw and neck, moving ever so slightly down toward his collar bone.

“Dad doesn’t know what’s wrong,” the words burst from Sam’s mouth so fast Stiles gaped at him.

Then shook his head, realizing that Sam was only nine and he didn’t know what was going on with Max either. He would probably be upset too in Sam’s position, especially if the adult in charge wasn’t sure.

“I didn’t have anyone to watch him,” Stiles explained when Dr. Deaton looked at Sam. Stiles wished he would focus on Max at the moment.

Sam continued to fidget with the necklace, eyes bloodshot from crying.

Dr. Deaton nodded, checking Max for a temperature, then looking into his eyes.

“Is their mom here as well?” Dr. Deaton asked, pulling a stethoscope off the wall and listening to Max’s heart and lungs.

“No.” Stiles ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know where she is at the moment.”

Dr. Deaton looked back at Sam, whose gaze had been practically drilling holes into the doctor’s back. He placed the stethoscope back on the wall.

“Everything appears to be okay. Bedrest and lots of fluids.” Dr. Deaton said, writing something on the clipboard.

“You’re not going to run a CAT scan or anything?” Stiles gasped. “He can hardly move, he’s in so much pain.”

Dr. Deaton’s expression remained unreadable. “That would only expose him to unnecessary radiation. If he gets worse, bring him back.”

Sam relaxed slightly in his chair.

“What about medicine for pain?” Stiles demanded. He couldn’t understand why Dr. Deaton wasn’t going to run any tests.

“You can give him Tylenol, or children’s ibuprofen every four hours if he needs it.”

Stiles glanced from Sam to Dr. Deaton.

“What he needs is rest,” the doctor explained simply.

Stiles felt himself nodding.

Sam wiped his eyes and stood up, taking Max’s hand.

“Sam,” Stiles began as they made their way to the car.

Sam shook his head sadly.

“Dad, please,” he begged, “stop.”

The drive to the house was quiet. Stiles put Max back in bed and watched as Sam climbed in next to him.

“You’re not going to sleep in your room?” Stiles asked in a whisper.

Sam shook his head, pulling the blankets over both of them.

Stiles nodded, a pit of emptiness growing in his stomach. There was clearly something Sam wasn’t telling him, something Molly knew about Max’s headaches and didn’t feel the need to warn him about

He went downstairs and sat on the couch. The whole house was dark except for the kitchen light that almost never got turned off.

He checked his phone, he wasn’t surprised no one had called or messaged him. He dialed Molly’s cell number. Again the mechanical voice informed him the number was invalid.

Stiles let the phone fall into his lap before deciding he could pay some bills and at least be productive with the night.

He opened the app for his bank and nearly closed it immediately. The savings accounts he had for Sam and Max were listed below his own checking and savings information. The amounts for both boy’s accounts were double what they had been the last time he’d logged in.

Stiles clicked on both of them when he regained function of his fingers. The extra money had come from an account ending in 8627, Molly’s old account number.

He felt his blood run cold. He turned off his phone without bothering to pay the bills at all.

“Molly, what happened?” he whispered to the ceiling, letting his head fall back against the couch.

***

Shania Twain’s loud voice made Stiles jump. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep on the couch.

“Sorry!” Max gasped, his voice hardly audible over _‘Honey, I’m Home’._

Stiles rubbed his eyes, barely able to identify Max as he jumped the last three steps of the stairs.

“How are you feeling?” Stiles asked, sitting up. He rubbed his neck when it twinged.

“Much better!” Max cheered, climbing on the seat of the recliner and making a superman leap to the couch, nearly landing on Stiles.

“Be careful,” he warned when Max ninja rolled off the couch and onto the floor.

Sam was halfway down the steps a few minutes later, eyes tracking his brother like a hawk.

Stiles thought the protectiveness Sam had toward Max was kind of cute.

“I’ll start dinner,” he muttered, standing up.

“Dinner?” Max cried in outrage. “It’s breakfast!”

“My bad,” Stiles chuckled.

Sam crossed the living room quietly, picking up the Wii and TV remote from off the recliner. Still watching Max he turned the volume down.

“Remember what Mom said. Look before you do stuff like that,” Sam said earnestly.

Max stared back at him and shrugged.

“I’m okay, Sam.” Stiles assured, cracking eggs into a pan. “I was going to get up anyway, once you guys started playing music.”

Max grinned, throwing himself backwards on the couch.

Sam shook his head but didn’t say anything else.

***

Stiles ended up finishing work early. Sam and Max battled Pokemon on their DS’s the whole time. Stiles was impressed. He was able to clean up most of the marker on the floor but had no luck when he attacked the desk.

“Are we going to see Derek?” Sam asked, climbing into the backseat of the jeep.

Stiles paused, caught off guard that Sam remembered Derek’s name.

“And get an iced hot chocolate?” Max added happily.

Stiles looked at both of them in the rearview mirror. “I guess we can, since you guys were so good while I was working.”

Max cheered until they pulled into the Starbucks parking lot.

“I get chocolate, chocolate, chocolate,” he chanted, jumping from the car and running toward the doors.

Derek was helping a customer in front of them, so Stiles stood in line trying to keep both boys from running off.

Derek smiled when he saw them.

“Same as before?” Derek asked when Stiles stepped up.

“Yes, please- Sam, stay here.” Stiles dug his wallet out of his pocket and Derek chuckled.

“No leprechauns have caught me yet!” Max told Derek proudly.

“Leprechauns aren’t real,” Sam snapped, leaning around Stiles to glare at his brother.

“Yes, they are!” Max argued, brown eyes wide.

“Sam, let your brother believe in leprechauns,” Stiles interjected, seeing Sam open his mouth to continue the argument.

“You don’t know what you’re encouraging here,” Sam stated in all seriousness.

Stiles shook his head, handing Derek the money for the drinks.

“Kids,” he said by way of explanation.

Derek’s lips twitched into a smile.

“My siblings believe in leprechauns, too,” he told Sam, face a mask of empathy. “I know how you feel.”

Sam’s eyes grew wide, his hand moving to hold the necklace.

“Sam, can you go find a seat?” Stiles asked, nudging Max to move to the other end of the counter.

Sam grabbed Max’s hand, dragging him behind him as he walked to the nearest empty table.

Stiles waited for their drinks and grabbed a newspaper. About the time he sat down, Derek slid from around the counter with his own drink and sat at a table in the corner.

“Come sit with us!” Max yelled across the room.

Stiles felt his cheeks grow red. “Max, no yelling,” he hissed. No sooner had the words left his mouth than Max shot from his seat, making a beeline toward Derek.

"Come sit with us," Max demanded when Derek blinked at him. Then he added as an afterthought, "Please."

Derek glanced at Stiles, who pulled a chair over from an empty table, not keen on following his son's example of yelling.

Derek smiled and followed Max back to the table.

“I don’t normally sit and have a drink with customers,” Derek said, sitting in the chair.

“I’ve come here every day for the last three years. Am I still an ordinary customer?” Stiles asked, amusement playing in his eyes.

“You’ve never been ordinary.”

Max laughed and Sam focused on a spot on the table.

Max dominated the conversation as he grilled Derek about his siblings.

“Older or younger?” Max asked.

“Both.”

“How many?” he asked between sips of his drink.

Derek smiled. “Four. Five, including me.”

Max nodded as if this answer was to be expected.

“You look sunburnt,” he stated, poking Derek’s arm.

“Maximus!” Stiles gasped. “If someone looks sunburnt, don’t go poking them.” Stiles gave Derek an apologetic smile.

Derek waved him off. “Did you not just hear me say I have four siblings? It’s no big deal.”

Derek checked his phone for the time, probably to make sure he remembered to clock back in.

“I finally managed to kick my sisters out of the pool so I could swim.” Derek explained, examining his arms. “But I don’t think I got burnt, that may just be my normal skin.”

“You have a pool?” Max asked, eyes huge. “Can we go swimming sometime?”

“Maximus,” Stiles jumped in quickly.

Sam hunkered down in his seat, clearly uncomfortable at the mention of a pool.

“It’s impolite to invite yourself over to people’s houses.” Stiles thought he saw Derek hiding a grin.

“But,” Max began.

“No,” Stiles said firmly. “Not polite.”

“That’s how you met mom though, isn’t it?” Sam asked, only his eyes visible over the table.

Now Stiles could clearly see Derek grinning.

“It’s fine by me,” Derek began, “as long as it’s okay with your dad. My dad would love the opportunity to drag out the barbeque and show off his cooking skills.”

Max looked at Stiles happily, swinging his feet.

Sam only blinked, face still hidden under the table.

“Well,” Derek checked his phone again. “I have to go clock back in. You know where I work, so give me a few days to recruit my siblings to help me clean the living room and maybe we can plan something.”

“Okay!” Max giggled.

“It was nice talking to you.” Derek excused himself and went back around the counter.

Stiles stared at Max. “Do you have no boundaries?”

“You’d never have asked him to hang out with you on your own, Max helped you,” Sam pointed out.

Stiles heard Derek trip over something behind the counter.

“Neither of you have boundaries,” he decided, letting his head fall onto the table.

“Mom says we get it from your side of the family,” Max told him, sipping what was left of his drink.

Stiles considered the statement for a second. “Yeah, okay. Finish so we can go home.”

“Can we watch a movie?” Max asked, jumping over to a trashcan to throw away his cup, then jumping back to the table.

“We’ll see,” Stiles said.

“Mom would make you go back and walk,” Sam informed Max when he sat back down at the table.

“Mom’s not here.” Max shrugged.

Stiles thought about saying something but changed his mind at the last second. “You done, Sam?”

Sam stood up with a nod.

 

Stiles discarded his unread newspaper on the table as he passed, and began preparing hamburgers while the boys argued over popcorn or kettle corn.

He had thought for sure they’d argue over what movie to watch instead, but they had quickly settled on The Lion King.

He handed them their plates in the living room and brought out two bowls, one with each kind of popcorn.

Max fell asleep before the movie was over, and Sam sat fidgeting in the recliner.

“Dad,” Sam finally began.

Stiles looked at him.

“I want to tell you, but…” his voice trailed off.

Stiles could Sam struggling with thoughts.

“I can’t. Not that I don’t want to tell you, but I can’t.” Sam stared at him, eyes pleading for Stiles to understand.

Stiles studied him. “Well,” he began haltingly, crestfallen, “tell me when you can, kay?”

Sam looked away.

“Okay,” Sam breathed.

They fell silent again, the movie coming to an end.

“Dad,” Sam began again.

Stiles looked at him again.

“I don’t care if you and Max swim at Derek’s, but I don’t want to.”

“Okay.” Stiles smiled sadly, already having assumed as much.

“Goodnight.” Sam gave him a hug.

“Goodnight.” Stiles repeated, turning off the movie.

Sam went upstairs. Stiles dug a blanket out of the closet and threw it over Max, who was still asleep on the couch.

He contemplated unplugging the Wii so he could sleep until his alarm went off but decided the possibility of the boys getting into trouble would be greater if he didn’t know they were awake.

He paused in the kitchen, picking up the newspaper from Starbucks. He flipped through the headlines and comics with little interest. He'd almost tossed it back on the table when he saw someone familiar.  
A picture of Molly smiled at him from the last page, the word **MISSING** written above her head.

Stiles sank into a chair at the table, reading the article.

" _Coworker Cindy Mills officially reported Ms. Adams missing last night, after the 48 hour mark was up. Mrs. Mills says Ms. Adams went on a lunch break and never returned, at which point Mrs. Mills called the police._

_"The police said that Molly's an adult and could have just decided she was done with her job," Mills tells_ The Metro Cities _. "I told them that just wasn't like Molly. She loved her job. So I waited until they would let me file a report."_

_Multiple friends and coworkers have tried getting in contact with Ms. Adams via phone and email with no success._

_Police are investigating possible suspects now, and implore the public to call the provided number if they have any information about Molly Adams's whereabouts._ ”

Stiles placed a hand over his mouth, eyes glued to the paper.

The last few sentences were a quote from the coworker, pleading for help to find her.

Stiles took a deep, shaky breath, throwing the paper in the trash.

“Molly’s okay,” he told himself. “Molly’s going to be okay.” He paced the hallway before going into his room, then began to pace the room.

It wasn’t until Stiles heard Bon Jovi that he realized he hadn’t slept all night. He ran a hand over his face and committed himself to getting up.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Max was dancing around the living room singing _It’s my Life_ with Sam. Sam noticed Stiles first and smiled.

“What’s for breakfast?” Sam asked, sitting on the edge of the couch.

“Food,” Max answered, tackling Sam. The two rolled on the couch for a second before Sam shoved him off. 

“Stop!” Sam snapped.

Max charged him again, this time dragging Sam to the floor.

"Max, _stop!_ " Sam yelled. He shoved his brother, trying to get him off.

“Max,” Stiles said warningly. “Listen to Sam’s words.”

Max climbed onto Sam’s back, hooking his arms around Sam’s chest and laughing.

Stiles stepped toward them just as Sam elbowed Max in the stomach. Max fell off Sam with an over exaggerated yell of pain.

“Leave me alone!” Sam shouted.

Max curled into a ball on the floor, yelling that he had been _playing_ and Sam had _hurt_ him.

“I didn’t hurt you. I wouldn’t _hurt_ you!” Sam yelled back, looking at Stiles for help. “You saw him!”

“Boys, enough.” Stiles stepped between them. “Sam, go into the kitchen.”

“Dad, I didn’t start it. I _can’t_ hurt him!” Sam was still yelling, face turning red and tears filling his eyes.

“Sam, please,” Stiles said. “Accidents happen.”

Tears spilled over Sam’s cheeks as he stomped into the kitchen, hand clutching his necklace. He slumped into a chair at the table, head hung low.

Max immediately got up and followed, taking the seat next to him.

Sam didn't say anything, didn't look at him. When Max began swinging his legs and kicking him, Sam shoved his chair back loudly and moved seats, wiping his eyes.

“Maximus, leave your brother alone,” Stiles ordered, digging eggs and leftover hamburger out of the fridge.

Sam glared at Max, his eyes accusing. Max began kicking the leg of the table.

“Last warning,” Stiles said sternly. “You can go back to bed if you’re not going to listen.”

“You have to take me to work,” Max informed him.

Stiles raised an eyebrow challengingly. “I have no qualms about finding a babysitter.”

A smug smile flashed across Sam’s face when Max went still.

Stiles busied himself with making the breakfast burgers and had just started frying eggs when the Wii began playing music again.

Stiles glanced into the living room, sure YouTube had paused when Bon Jovi ended. He saw the remotes on the couch. He looked at the boys at the table.

"Weird," he decided. "YouTube must have gotten impatient."

Max laughed and Sam glared at him.

“Stop,” Sam said seriously.

Stiles looked between them, trying to see what Max was doing this time.

The song changed again. This time it rapidly flashed down the favorites list. 

Max tilted his head curiously, leaning back in the chair to see into the living room. He grinned at Sam triumphantly.

Stiles swiveled his head back toward the living room.

Sam’s glare sharpened.

The TV screen flickered. The selected song began starting and stopping like it was buffering.

Max tilted his head in confusion, looking at Sam.

Stiles walked across the living room toward the TV and Wii to try to figure out what was going on.

The Wii suddenly turned off, then back on, freezing on the loading screen.

Stiles hit the power button on both devices. “That’s about what it was doing with Scott and I,” he mused, walking back to the kitchen. “It was nice while it lasted.”

Sam continued to glare at Max as if the Wii breaking was his fault.

“It’s okay, Sam, I’ll look at it later, maybe reset the WiFi and controllers.” Stiles took the pan of eggs off the burner. “Dish up.”

Sam huffed, piling his burger with eggs, bacon, and tomatoes and sitting back down.

Both boys were quiet and moody until noon, when Stiles decided he was done with their passive-aggressive attitudes. He glanced at his unfinished work scattered across the desk and decided to call it a day. His announcement that everyone was taking a nap when they got home was met with groans of protest.

He thought about Molly's picture in the newspaper, the awkward smile of someone who didn't like having their picture taken on her face. He hadn't said anything to the boys about it, and the thought made him glance in the rearview mirror at them. No need to worry them, he decided, not until he was sure there was something to worry about.

 

At two in the afternoon, Stiles's phone chimed with a text. He jumped, scrambling for his phone and checking the screen. His heart sank slightly when he realized it wasn't Molly, but he smiled when he saw Scott's goofy contact picture.

 **Scott** \- _Your kids come in town and you stop talking to me? I’m offended._

Stiles quickly began typing a reply.

_Been busy. Want to come over later?_

His phone buzzed seconds later.

 **Scott** \- _I’m in your driveway, let me in._

Stiles got off the couch, crossing the room and yanking the door open.

“Bad day?” Scott asked, standing on the doorstep. “Where are the kids?”

“Sleeping. They _needed_ a nap.” Stiles sat down in the recliner.

Scott flopped on the couch.

“Yeah? Any word on why Molly dropped them off and ran?” Scott glanced over at him. “I saw the paper,” he added when Stiles didn’t answer right away.

"No." He hadn't realized how he truly felt about Molly's disappearing act until Scott asked. Bitterness rose in his chest and made his voice harsh. "I haven't heard a fucking thing."

Scott pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “How are they doing?” he asked softly.

"As okay as they can be. They were being…difficult…today, and a few days ago Max had a bad migraine." Stiles ran his hands over his face and laughed a little. "They invited themselves over to Derek's house. It could be worse, I guess. I didn't tell them about the paper," he added softly.

“Derek from Starbucks?” An excited glint appeared in Scott’s eyes; he laughed gleefully when Stiles nodded.

“Apparently Derek has a pool, and Max wants to go swimming.” Stiles let out a long breath.

“What’d Derek say?” Scott inquired eagerly.

“He said,” Stiles sighed, “that he was fine with it as long as I was.”

“And?”

"And I hardly know him! I'm not bringing my children to a stranger's house to swim, especially when one of them is already so terrified of water he can hardly stand to look at a bathtub!" Stiles snapped. He knew he'd reacted too harshly the second the words left his mouth. He closed his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled, dropping his head back against the couch. "I guess I'm in a piss-poor mood today, too."

“Go take a nap, I’ll hold the fort down.” Scott kicked his feet up on the armrest.

Stiles laughed mirthlessly. "Then I won't be able to sleep tonight. I didn't sleep last night," he added. "I _really_ need to sleep tonight."

Scott nodded understandingly.

“So,” he began. “Why not ask Derek out to do something? Test the waters," he chuckled, "before you go to his house?”

Stiles frowned, hardly keeping up with Scott’s topic jump.

“Now is _not_ a good time to start dating.”

Scott shrugged. "Don't think of it as dating, then. Look at it like your kid wants to go swimming, and you kind of know somebody with a pool." He grinned, clearly proud of himself.

Stiles stared evenly at him, struggling not to smile back.

“I’d do it for you, but Derek might be uncomfortable, seeing as we’ve never met.”

That made Stiles snort with laughter.

Scott took the opportunity to grab the TV remote from behind his head on the back of the couch and turn the TV on. The Wii screen flashed on.

“Oh,” Stiles said softly. “It’s working again.”

“Again?” Scott demanded. “How did you fix it the first time?”

“I didn’t—Sam did something. Said he found my WiFi password in the drawer.” He shrugged. “Guess I’m not as sly as I’d like to believe.”

“No, no, no,” Scott said, sitting up. “Remember, we tried that, and ended up figuring out nothing was wrong with the Wii, it was the router. You called tech support and they said you’d need a new router completely.”

Stiles frowned; he had vague memories of that conversation.

"He had to have done something to the router," Scott concluded, searching through Sam and Max's YouTube history.

“The router is in my room. He hasn’t been in there.” Stiles shook his head. “Must be something else wrong with it.”

Scott shrugged. "I just know what you said the tech guy said. When were they using the Wii, anyway? Haven't they been coming to work with you?"

Stiles snorted. "They get up at like 5:30 and listen to music."

Scott’s jaw dropped. “And you _let_ them? My mom would have told me to hike my ass back to bed. And so would your dad.”

Stiles shrugged. “I hardly ever see them. It’s kind of nice to know they’re awake and get up to spend time with them. And if I send them to bed, they would just be sneakier about getting up next time. Molly started the whole playing music in the morning because she was having the same issue only at the time we didn’t know they were awake and causing trouble. Hearing music just means their awake.”

Scott hummed to himself. “Differences in parenting, I suppose. You tried keeping them up later, try to tire them out?”

“All of it. Max is just a morning person and Sam gets up with him,” Stiles muttered.

Scott flicked off YouTube and onto Netflix. He grinned. “If you ever need a babysitter, let me know."

Stiles smiled, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “I may need to take you up on that offer. I can’t keep taking them to work with me.”

“Three dollars an hour for Sam, ten for Max,” Scott said with a wink, still searching Netflix.

Stiles laughed. “Just make sure they don’t burn the house down and I’ll pay you whatever you want. I don’t have fire insurance.”

Scott chuckled. “They aren’t fire demons.”

“No, they’re just like we are.”

“Like you were,” Scott corrected.

“Fair enough,” Stiles conceded.

“Hi, Scott.”

Stiles and Scott turned to see Sam on the steps. Stiles wondered how long he’d been standing there, but didn’t ask.

“How have you been?” Scott asked, watching Sam finish coming down the stairs and climb into Stiles’s lap.

“Good,” was the only answer Scott received.

Scott pantomimed being wounded. Stiles smiled and shrugged. Scott waved dismissively.

“What’s the plan for dinner?” Scott asked, laying back down.

“Was thinking of ordering in,” Stiles admitted quietly. “Any ideas?” He nudged Sam with his shoulder.

“Chinese,” the mumbled reply came.

“There you go.” Stiles nodded at Scott.

“I can go pick it up,” Scott offered. “Then there won’t be a delivery fee.”

Stiles shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“Anything you want specifically?” Scott asked Sam.

"What was that?" Stiles asked when Sam's response came out too garbled for even him to understand. He leaned closer and let Sam mumble directly into his ear. "Egg rolls and crab puffs," he relayed to Scott.

“I’ll be back!” Scott announced, closing the front door behind him.

Max came downstairs dressed in a cape, an oversized jacket, and sunglasses.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked, watching Max crawl across the floor and make a leap for the couch.

“I’m a leprechaun hunter,” Max growled.

“Dad,” Sam whined.

“It’s okay, Sam,” Stiles assured, then grinned. “I’m pretty sure the house is leprechaun free, but he can double check.” Stiles winked.

Sam didn’t seem to share the same amusement.

Stiles ran a hand through Sam’s hair and grimaced. “Hair needs to be washed tonight, kay, bud?” Stiles felt Sam tense. “Things may start growing in your hair if you don’t.”

Sam didn’t move at first and Stiles began to wonder if he had fallen back to sleep.

“Okay,” Sam finally whispered.

 

Max was hanging upside down off the couch when Scott came back, his arms full of bags. 

“Food!” Max yelled, summersaulting backwards off the couch.

“Mighty Max!” Scott yelled back, making his way toward the kitchen and dodging grabby hands.

“Dad, Scott bought us food!” Max yelled, jumping around Scotts legs to look in the bags.

“I think that’s Scott’s food.”

Max stilled so quickly that Scott had to hide a smile, his face fell. “Huh?”

Max turned to stare at Scott as he set the food down. His crestfallen expression turned into longing. "That's a lot of food. Are you _sure_ you can eat all that by yourself? Are you sure you _want_ to eat that yourself?" He inclined his head suggestively, eyes widening and rounding in a perfectly practiced expression of innocence.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scott gasped with mock offense. 

“Mom says you get a tummy ache if you eat too much,” Max said, shaking his head sadly.

Sam wiggled off of Stiles’s lap, following Scott and Max into the kitchen and sitting at the table.

“Vultures,” Scott laughed, “both of them.”

“Get a plate,” Stiles said when Sam grabbed an egg roll. He looked over at Scott, “Thanks for getting it, you didn’t have to.”

Scott shrugged, “You picked up the food and tab last time and I figured I will eat my fair share of it.”

“I’m sure you-” Stiles was interrupted by his phone ringing. He snatched it off the counter. A number he didn’t recognize flashed on the screen.

“Go,” Scott said. “I’ve got the boys.”

Stiles stepped onto the front porch. "Hello?" he answered shakily.

“Hello, my name is Kate. I’m calling from the police investigation center for missing persons, I need to speak to Stiles Stilinski.”

“Speaking.” Stiles took a deep breath.

"We have in our records that you were married to one Molly Adams until four years ago, and you have visitation rights with your two sons on weekends and holidays."

Stiles waited anxiously for Kate to finish her spiel and get on with the point.

"As I'm sure you're aware, a coworker recently reported her missing. We need to know if you have had any contact with her, either right before or directly after she went missing."

"I met her at The Dalles to pick up our boys about a week ago. She transferred money into their savings accounts three days after I picked the boys up." 

"And you haven't heard from her since?" Kate pressed. "Haven't tried contacting her?"

"I tried calling her," Stiles said sharply. "I haven't heard from her since I got the boys." He inhaled slowly. "Have you found any leads?" he asked.

"I'm not at liberty to disclose that information-" she began. 

"She is the mother of my children. Have you found any leads?" Stiles demanded, enunciating carefully.

“We will be in contact with you as soon as any information becomes available for public disclosure. For court purposes, I need you to verify your address, and the address the kids are staying at if it is different than yours.”

Stiles blew out a frustrated breath and recited his address for her.

“Thank you Mr. Stilinski, we will contact you as soon as we can.”

Fury and indignation bubbled in his stomach when he heard her hang up.

Stiles turned a full circle. He wanted to pace off his anger. He wanted to be with his boys and his best friend. He wanted some _answers_.

He stayed outside for a few minutes longer, trying to calm himself down before going back inside.

That phone call had been pointless. They didn’t ask where he was when Molly disappeared, or how his relationship with her had been, or any of the questions his dad would have drilled someone with before hanging up the phone.

Stiles was still fuming, though not quite as badly, when he reentered the kitchen.

“Dad is rolling over in his grave,” Stiles told Scott. “He’d chew whoever just called me out and leave them to think about their life and how to fix it while he cleaned his gun.”

“That bad?” Scott asked around a mouth full of noodles.

“Horrible! Terrible detective work. I could have done better and gotten more information when I was Sam’s age.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, leaning back from his plate.

“The police station wanted to make sure you were with me and safe.”

It wasn’t a total lie, and Sam seemed momentarily satisfied. Then he asked, “How did they know I was with you, and not with mom?”

“You’re supposed to be with me over the summer.” The reply sounded only half believable but it was more truthful than the first.

Sam nodded but didn’t seem convinced.


	4. Chapter 4

Scott watched Sam and Max a week while Stiles was at work. Scott had appeared stunned the first day when he arrived at 6:30 in the morning and both boys were awake and dressed.

“Sleep while you can!” Scott had told them as Stiles walked out the door. “You’ll miss it when you’re older.”

This had actually been the most productive week at work Stiles had had since picking the boys up. He grabbed his bag off the desk on Friday and decided to swing by Starbucks before heading home. 

“I swear,” Stiles announced, seeing Derek behind the counter. “You must live here.”

Derek looked surprised but laughed. “Well, look who it is. Where’re your helpers?”

“Home.” Stiles grinned. It felt strange to smile after worrying so much about Molly. He still had heard nothing from or about her since Kate called.

Derek rang something up on the register, the total coming to about Stiles’s regular price without the boy’s iced hot chocolates. He handed Derek his credit card and waited.

“About the whole swimming thing,” Stiles began slowly.

Derek raised his brows questioningly.

"You didn't have to invite us over. I appreciate it, but you don't know me, and I don't really know you." He hesitated, then added, "And Sam's terrified of water. Pools, baths." He waved his hand. "I wouldn't feel comfortable..."

Derek nodded. "I get it, totally. It's not a big deal. As for us being strangers, well." He pressed his lips together in a tight smile. "My family has a huge reunion every year. It's a tradition. There's a lot of people there for one skinny guy to try to murder."

Stiles laughed a little, his tension easing.

Derek handed Stiles his receipt, smiling.

Stiles thanked him, watching while he made the drink. He frowned when Derek came back to the counter with three. 

Stiles started to say he hadn't ordered that many, but a glance at his receipt showed that Derek had applied an Employee Discount, which had marked the two extra drinks to zero.

Stiles let out a slow breath. “They’ll be thrilled, thank you.”

Derek waved goodbye, moving to help the next customer who had just walked in.

*** 

Sam and Max shrieked in excitement when Stiles entered the house and placed their drinks on the counter.

“Thank you!” Sam called from the kitchen.

“How was today?” Stiles asked Scott, hanging his work things on the hook by the door.

“Good, nothing really happened. They entertained themselves for a bit upstairs. When I double checked on them they got really quiet.” Scott chuckled. “Didn’t seem to be doing anything other than just talking.”

“And you were hoping for something different?” Stiles asked suspiciously.

“Of course! I have high expectations! I was at least expecting to have something juicy to tell you.”

“So sorry to hear they disappointed you.” Stiles moved into the kitchen, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Was Derek at work today?” Max asked, eyes round and a light with excitement.

“Yes,” Stiles said, pulling frozen dinner rolls from the freezer. He looked at Scott. “You staying for dinner?”

“What are you having?” Scott raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “I have been through your fridge multiple times today and saw nothing exciting.”

Stiles considered hitting him with the rolls. “I’ll go grocery shopping this weekend. Tonight we’re having meatloaf.”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.” Scott grinned. “See you Monday.” He pulled his jacket off the back of one of the dining room chairs.

“Can we go visit Derek tomorrow?” Max repeated when Scott waved goodbye.

“Why do you want to see him so badly?” Stiles asked, turning to face him.

“I saw a leprechaun last night! It was pacing outside the window.” Max kicked his feet under the table, head moving left and right as if tracking the movement of something.

Sam and Stiles stilled, directing their full attention on him.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked at the same time as Sam hissed, “Stop!”

“Sam,” Stiles said warningly. “Max, what did you see?”

Sam grabbed at his necklace.

The TV suddenly began playing a Green Day song.

Stiles and Sam jumped at the sudden sound. Stiles muttered under his breath about the connection and crossed the living room, reaching around the back of the Wii to unplug it. His hands groped only air.

His frown melted to a confused scowl.

He lifted the Wii off the entertainment center. No wires connected it to the TV or an outlet. He looked from the Wii in his hands to the boys sitting at the table.

Sam and Max stared at him in wide eyed horror.

“Sam,” Stiles said, his voice a deadly calm. “Explanation?”

Sam opened his mouth and shook his head, no sound passing his lips.

The music suddenly paused and the TV turned off. Stiles felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“I need an explanation,” Stiles said, tone still calm.

The Wii turned off in his hands, the power light blinking, then fading with a soft whirling noise.

“Dad.” Sam shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Max?” Stiles asked simply.

“Magic?” Max replied in the same tone, wringing his hands together in front of him.

“If neither of you are going to answer me, both of you go to your room,” Stiles said. He slammed the Wii down with enough force to make Sam flinch.

 

Sam hung his head and slunk up the stairs, refusing to look behind him at Max.

“You’re not my _mom_. You can’t tell me what to do,” Max suddenly snapped.

Sam froze mid-step, slowly turning around.

Stiles's face was blank for a second. Sam watched as anger and shock took over his expression. Sam flicked his gaze to his younger brother and narrowed his eyes.

He wanted Max to focus on him, rather than Stiles. Max couldn't lose his temper in front of Stiles, especially not right now.

“Maximus,” Stiles said, his voice low and authoritative. “I am your father, and while your mother is not here, I am in charge.” Two pairs of brown eyes locked each other in a stubborn stare. “You have until I count to five to get in your room.”

“Or what? I answered your question!” Max yelled. “I’m in trouble for nothing!”

“Max!” Sam snapped, trying to direct his brother’s attention to him rather than Stiles.

“One,” Stiles began to count.

Max screamed in tension and fury. “ _I answered you_!”

“Two.”

Sam wanted to go to his room and hide his face under his pillows until all the shouting stopped, but he waited to make sure Max listened, hovering on the steps, hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Three.”

Max tensed, his muscles going ridged with bottled anger. 

“Four.”

Max shot up the steps, pushing Sam aside and darting into his room. The door slammed loudly behind him.

Sam glanced at Stiles, then finished climbing the steps and went into his own room.

He flopped face first on the bed, resting his chin on the pillow. His crystal pressed painfully into his chest, a sharp reminder he was still wearing it.

“Mom,” Sam cried, burying his face in the pillow. “Where are you?” He sniffed loudly. “I’m ready to go home. I can’t keep watching Max.” Sam rolled onto his side, bringing his arm over his eyes. “Why haven’t you told dad?”

Sam fell silent. He could still feel Stiles’s sadness when Max had yelled at him.

“He doesn’t understand,” Sam muttered, tugging at the crystal, bringing up so he could see it.

A brief knock on the door was all the warning Sam had before Stiles opened the door and stepped into the room.

Sam looked away, fixating his attention on the checkered pattern of his blanket.

“Sam.” Stiles sounded calm but there was an air of tension around him.

Sam glanced up at him only to look away again.

“What happened downstairs?” Stiles asked, his voice a slow, forced calm. “How did you get the Wii working when it wasn’t even plugged in?”

“I don’t know.”

The words sounded robotic. Sam knew they'd come from him, but he wasn't speaking. His head buzzed distractingly, and Stiles's expression hardened.

“Samson, what did you do?”

Sam flinched, the buzzing growing louder, blocking out any comprehensible thought as his voice betrayed his will. “I don’t know.” Tears filled his eyes. He began fidgeting jerkily with a loose thread in his blanket.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me.” Stiles’s voice sounded like it was a mile away.

The buzzing continued to grow, Sam fought with himself not to say ‘I don’t know’ again. It would be a lie, and Stiles clearly realized he was lying about something.

But as he opened his mouth to ask Stiles to please stop questioning him, the words slipped out.

“I don’t know what happened.”

Sam wanted to yell in frustration like Max had done. He watched Stiles open his mouth again.

“I want mom,” Sam sobbed, pushing Stiles away when he sat on the bed.

Stiles grew still. “You need to answer me.”

“I can’t!” Sam yelled.

Stiles scowled, eyes finding the crystal around Sam’s neck.

Sam stared as Stiles began to ask about it again, a look of confusion passed behind his eyes. He fell silent for a second, just like he had done in the jeep after picking them up, and a few days after they had been here, just like Scott earlier on that day, and everyone else who had ever tried to ask about it in the past. And just like every past experience, Sam could read Stiles’s expression and knew the second Stiles completely forgot about even asking.

“Go ask Max,” Sam begged. The buzzing in his head dulled enough for him to begin thinking again. “Please, just go ask Max.” He pulled the blanket over his head, turning his back to Stiles and curling into a ball. “I can’t tell you what you want to know.”

Stiles stayed in Sam’s room, staring at him with hurt and confusion coming off him in waves.

Sam could feel his gaze beating into his back, wanting and demanding answers and slowly realizing he wasn’t going to get any.

He heard the bedroom door open and close when Stiles finally left. He wondered if Max would tell him.

Jealousy bubbled in Sam’s stomach. He would have told Stiles if he could. He would have warned Stiles what was going to happen when Max had the migraine, what the migraine actually was. He buried himself deeper in the blankets. There was nothing he could do about it now.

***

Sam woke up first the next morning. He walked quietly down the stairs, glancing around the dark living room and into the kitchen.

He sat on the sofa, pulling his knees to his chest and not daring to turn the Wii on.

Max poked his head around the stair railing not too much later.

“Can we come out of our rooms?” he asked softly.

Sam shrugged, murmuring, “Did dad talk to you?”

Max moved to sit next to him. “He tried.”

Sam eyed Max curiously. “You didn’t tell him?”

“He said I was lying and gave up.” Max chewed a hangnail on his thumb. “I tried though, right?” he asked, looking at Sam for approval.

Sam bit his tongue, wanting to ask Max what he had said, but Max was already talking again, answering the unspoken question.

“I told him it was magic.” A look of sadness flashed across his face. “Dad was up talking to Scott after he left my room. I heard him say he thinks I’m ‘playing dumb’. I’m not dumb.”

Sam snorted in irritation. “He shouldn’t be asking if he doesn’t want to hear the answer.”

Max nodded earnestly in agreement. “I miss mom.”

Stiles didn’t say anything when he came downstairs.

Sam watched as he made breakfast, neither Sam nor Max moving from their spot on the couch until Stiles was done and placed the food on the table. And even after then, no one spoke until Stiles’s phone rang.

Sam listened to Stiles’s half of the conversation, something about needing to sign some missed papers at work. Stiles tried to push it off until Monday, but whoever was on the other end of the phone insisted he do go into do it that day.

Stiles disappeared into his office, leaving the door open while Sam and Max waited in the lobby. Max stood on his toes, eyeing a bowl of candy just out of reach.

“No,” Sam said sternly.

Max glanced at him. He wasn’t moving, but everything on the counter was.

Sam flinched when everything jerked toward them. The movement stopped.

“Hey!” Max snapped, but Sam held firm. “Not fair.”

Sam glared at him until Max shuffled his feet and looked away, muttering something Sam couldn’t hear.

The lights flickered.

“Not. Around. Dad,” Sam said haltingly.

Max flung himself into a chair, pouting.

“Okay,” Stiles breathed, stepping back out into the lobby. “Papers signed, hopefully Eli will be happy with that, and won’t speak to me again until Monday.”

Stiles paused, glancing at the lights. “Did the power surge?”

Sam shrugged and Max blew out a harsh breath.

“Must have,” Max said dramatically, rolling his eyes at Sam.

“Right,” Stiles muttered.

Sam could feel him wondering if they were going to have another bad day, and beamed up at him.

“Love you,” Sam said, smiling.

Stiles’s lips twitched into a smile. “Love you. Back to the car, I’m going to swing by Starbucks before going home.”

They sat at a table, waiting for Stiles to finish ordering his drink and tell them to go back to the car. Sam noticed Derek sitting at a table not too far away. He realized he wasn’t in uniform and wondered if he had just gotten off work.

Derek turned around curiously, eyebrows pulling down when he saw them.

“Rough day?” Derek asked, throwing his napkin in the trashcan next to them.

Sam nodded and Max gave a sigh.

“Sometimes that’s just how it goes,” Derek said softly.

“How many bad days have you had?” Max challenged.

The question startled a laugh from Derek. “I’ve lost count,” he admitted.

“You just getting off?” Stiles asked, approaching them from behind.

Derek looked up. “No. I had today off and needed to get out for a bit. I’m supposed to be meeting my brother here.”

Stiles’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“You always come in on weekends?” Derek asked, sitting when Stiles motioned for him to do so.

“No,” Stiles admitted, “I just feel like I need the caffeine.”

“My sister, Luara, swears by caffeine. I’m curious how much she actually drinks in a day.” Derek smiled, presumably at a memory.

“Derek!” Max interjected excitedly. “I saw a leprechaun the other night.”

A look of surprise flitted across Derek’s face when Stiles was the one to sigh. He glanced at Sam, who was studying the table.

“I didn’t realize we had them this far south,” Derek replied, pressing his lips together thoughtfully. “Wonder if they were just passing through.” 

Sam lifted his head slowly and Derek winked.

“Well, I saw something,” Max insisted, leaning his elbows against the table. “I’m going to investigate it.”

“Might want to take someone with you. Best to never follow something alone.”

“How can you sit there and have a conversation like that about something that doesn’t exist?” Stiles demanded, tone full of exasperation.

Understanding sprang on Derek’s face. He shrugged. “Who’s to say they don’t exist?” Derek gave a one shouldered shrug and his eyes flashed gold.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the Kudos, Comments, and Bookmarks :) I promise the plot is picking up, hope you enjoy.

“I leave for two days and you ask him out?” Scott demanded on the other end of the phone.

“It’s not a date,” Stiles said for the fourth time since he had called Scott.

“When?” Scott asked, ignoring Stiles’s question.

“Wednesday.” Stiles listened as Scott moved around on the other end.

“Okay, well, I’ll be over anyway on Wednesday to watch Sam and Max while you’re at work.” Scott paused, rummaging through something. “Do Sam and Max like Derek?”

Stiles sighed, glancing at Sam who was laying on the couch. Max had already gone to bed.

“Ten minutes,” Stiles warned Sam.

Sam nodded.

“I think so. Max definitely does.”

“That’s a bonus. Kids have a good sense of character.”

Stiles snorted. “I wouldn’t consider seeing anyone if they didn’t like them or didn’t want me to.”

Scott fell silent. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Are you going to talk to Sam one on one and see what he thinks before you go?”

“I’ve tried.” Stiles cast a long glance at Sam. “If I press he just gets quiet and says ‘maybe’.”

“Maybe he thinks Derek is a good guy, or maybe you shouldn’t see him?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles grimaced when he repeated Sam’s favorite phrase. “I’ll get an answer before I meet Derek,” he decided.

Scott made an approving noise on the other end, then began eating something crunchy.

“What will you guys be doing?” Scott asked, muffled through his food.

“I’m meeting him at the library.”

There was a long pause before Scott answered dryly, “Sexy.”

“Scott!” Scandalized, Stiles glared at the phone, glancing toward Sam to make sure he hadn’t heard.

“It’s been over four years since you and Molly split!” Scott replied in the same tone. “You deserve to find someone again, and be happy.”

“Scott,” Stiles tried to interrupt.

Scott ignored him. “I know it isn’t an ‘ideal’ time but you’ve known him in passing for three years. And name one couple who began dating under perfect conditions.” Scott waited expectantly for a moment.

Stiles sat in huffy silence, refusing to answer.

“See?” Scott asked triumphantly. Softly, he added, “Just go with it.”

“Go with it,” Stiles repeated slowly, mind jumping to Max telling him Sam had fixed the Wii with magic, and Derek’s eyes flashing. Max hadn’t shown an ounce of surprise.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathed, “right.” He ran a hand over his face, trying to block out the image of a leprechaun pacing the backyard.

Scott let out a long, stuttering sigh. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

***

The Wii never began playing again, which lead to Scott being a bit more than disappointed when he found out he was stuck with cable instead of Netflix.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened after work on Monday, and it seemed downright abnormal to wake up to his alarm clock. He found Sam and Max sitting silently on the couch, Max's young face miserable and pleading.

Stiles was cleaning up after dinner when he sighed and shut his eyes.

“Whatever you did to make the Wii work, you didn’t have to stop.” He didn’t direct the statement at one of the boys in particular but both looked up at him.

In all honesty, Stiles wasn’t even sure him saying that would mean or change anything, but he thought he’d give it a shot.

Max studied him suspiciously. “I thought you didn’t believe in magic.”

Stiles stared back. “I don’t, but if the Wii working again will stop you two from moping all day, I don’t care how it works.”

“You feel like we’re not telling you something.” Sam’s statement made Stiles roll his eyes.

"I know you're not telling me something."

Max looked down, biting his lip. Then he looked back up. "You sure it's okay?" he asked, kicking his feet in excitement. He'd apparently shaken loose of his hesitation.

Stiles stared into his face, searching for some logical answer to all of this. "Yes, it's alright," he said at last.

 

On Tuesday morning Stiles woke up to Skillet an hour before his alarm was supposed to go off.

Sam and Max were sitting at the kitchen table.

Stiles could hear them talking before he got downstairs, but their voices were too soft to completely understand.

“So show him,” Max said flatly.

Stiles entered the kitchen with an eyebrow raised. “Show me what?”

He had deliberately not looked at the Wii when he walked past, not wanting to see if the wires had been found.

Sam looked away, toying with his necklace.

“Mom said not to tell, but she didn’t say not to show,” Max said, ignoring Stiles.

Stiles crossed his arms. “Show me what?” he demanded.

Sam shook his head quickly, pressing his lips together.

“I’ll do it,” Max declared, facing Stiles. “The Wii is on.”

Stiles blinked at him. “I saw that.”

“It’s not plugged into anything.”

Sam wouldn’t look at him.

“I didn’t look.” Stiles felt the hair on his arms stand on end.

Max kicked his feet under the table in excitement. “You’re keys are hanging by the door.”

Stiles looked at his car keys, brows furrowed. "Yes, they are," he said uncertainly.

The jeep roared to life in the driveway, headlights filling the living room.

“I turned it on,” Max said triumphantly.

Stiles crossed the house, grabbed his keys, and walked outside in his pajamas. He heard Max giggle from his spot at the table.

The jeep was running.

He tugged on the driver’s door handle to find it locked. He fumbled with the keys, but the second he opened the door the engine died, and Stiles stared at the empty ignition.

Stiles stood outside in the chilly morning air, just breathing. He was acutely aware of every expansion of his lungs, of the bite of cold on his bare feet, the cut of the key clenched in his hand.

“Not possible,” he muttered. He slammed the door, making sure to double check that it was locked.

He entered the house slowly. YouTube was searching rapidly through an untitled playlist.

“Nope,” he said in denial when he saw all the remotes and controllers untouched on the couch.

“-stupid and dangerous,” Stiles heard Sam scold Max. “What if you did that wrong?”

“I didn’t, though,” Max argued. “Dad won’t believe I did it anyway.”

They went quiet when Stiles entered the kitchen. His stomach was in knots.

“You okay?” Sam asked, concerned.

“Fantastic,” Stiles muttered, dropping his keys on the counter and almost knocking a bowl into the sink.

“Sam, can you- I don’t want to know,” Stiles decided quickly, busying himself with making breakfast.

Stiles could feel them watching him as he placed two bowls of cereal on the table and began making French toast. His body was moving on autopilot as he tried to process what had just happened.

By the time the food was done and Scott had arrived, Stiles had almost managed to convince himself the whole incident was a dream. Only the feeling of the cold air and the car door handle under his palm prevented him from outright denying it.

When Scott asked if he was okay, he nodded and shoved a plate of French toast at him.

“Just a vivid dream,” Stiles said, brushing the question off.

Max gave a defeated sigh from his place on the recliner.

The Wii had turned off when Scott pulled up and hasn’t come back on since.

 

Wednesday morning began similarly, and when Stiles entered the kitchen, he ignored the silverware plastered to the ceiling.

Max looked dejected when Stiles didn’t react, and all the silverware had quickly been placed back in the correct drawer when Scott knocked on the door.

 

Work went by slowly, each minute seeming to take forever. Stiles tried calling Molly’s cell on his lunch but the phone was still out of service.

He finished everything he needed to do and turned out the light.

He was stepping toward the door when he turned the light back on, eyes scanning the desk.

The marker spot from the boys was gone.

He frowned at the keys in his hand. He was the only one who had a key to his office and he hadn’t tried cleaning the spot off in days.

Stiles let his head fall against the door, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He turned the light off for the second time before he left.

 

The library was surprisingly empty when he got there. He supposed it would be, on a workday in the middle of the week.

A shiny Camaro pulled into the lot not much later.

Stiles was momentarily stunned seeing Derek behind the wheel. He quickly composed himself, stepping out of the jeep and waving while Derek parked and got out.

“How have you been?”

If Derek thought the question sounded as awkward as it did to Stiles, this whole meeting was going to be so uncomfortable.

Stiles felt his stomach twist.

“Good. How about you?” Derek’s reply was calm and genuine.

Stiles tripped over the curb, catching himself on the hood of the jeep. How was it fair that Derek was at ease?

“Thanks for, uh, meeting me here,” Stiles stuttered. Scott’s unimpressed tone floated through his head, making him blush.

Derek shrugged. “You want to go inside, or talk out here?”

“Out here is probably best,” Stiles muttered, leaning against his jeep.

Stiles fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "I didn't even think of that, to be honest." He hopped up on the hood of his jeep, leaning his elbows on his knees. "You seem to know them better than I do. I mean," he laughed a bit hysterically, "do they even read? Do they even have to read a book to know what's in it? Or do they just, like, absorb them through some freaky magic osmosis?" He scrubbed at his face, turning red.

"Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"I get it," Derek said easily. "You're overwhelmed."

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

Derek shrugged again. “I didn’t mean to sound rude the first day you brought them to Starbucks.”

Stiles chuckled. “I also didn’t mean to invite you here to talk about them.” His words got softer as he spoke and he swallowed.

“I don’t care what you want to talk about. I’m just glad you wanted to talk.” The blunt honesty and contentment in Derek’s tone made Stiles smile wider.

Stiles fell silent, looking everywhere except at Derek.

“If talking about Sam and Max will help you relax, I really don’t mind,” Derek offered lightly. “Or I could talk about my siblings, or nieces, nephews, or cousins.”

“I saw your eyes at Starbucks,” Stiles said, his voice hushed.

Derek tilted his head curiously. “I meant for you to.”

“You have magic?”

“No,” Derek answered, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“They have magic?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Stiles argued. “That’s not logical.” He jumped off the jeep, pacing a short distance away and back. “Maybe I should have suggested meeting at a bar instead of a library.”

Derek laughed, the sound light and humorous. “A bar wouldn’t have done much more than give you a hangover and me a headache.”

“Isn’t a hangover and a headache basically the same thing?” He paused his pacing to frown at Derek.

He smiled slightly. “I’d get a headache from the noise,” Derek clarified.

"You don't drink?" Stiles asked casually, feeling like he'd overstepped some personal boundary by assuming.

Derek laughed a little and Stiles relaxed.

“I could drink, but I wouldn’t get the same effect as you. And I would have to drink a lot.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. “Does that mean you were the ‘good’ child growing up?”

Laughter bubbled up from Derek’s chest and Stiles had to smile, a warm feeling easing the dark tangled knot that was his stomach.

“Depends on who you asked and if they ever caught me.” Derek ran a hand over his face. “Some things I still won’t admit to my parents, though I’m sure they already know.”

“So, how many people live at your house?” Stiles asked, recalling the multiple times Derek mentioned wanting to get away.

“My siblings and I all have a room, so six. Plus my parents, so eight. Which isn’t bad at all, since the house is big enough for everyone to have their own space. And half the time someone’s at their significant other’s house anyway, or their own house. It’s mainly when extended family comes by for,” Derek paused thoughtfully, “indefinite lengths of time.”

Stiles chuckled, and Derek continued, “The family reunion I was telling you about is on week two, and only half the people have left.”

“Two weeks?” Stiles gasped, his jaw dropping.

“I love them all,” Derek said quickly. “But there are way too many people for far too long.”

“Be thankful,” Stiles muttered, thinking of his own parents.

Derek nodded. He looked as if he wanted to say something but changed his mind.

After a few minutes of silence, Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket.

“Can I have your number?” he asked tentatively.

Derek ducked his head, smiling at his shoes. “Yeah.”

He typed the number into his phone as Derek recited it, and quickly sent him a brief message.

**This is Stiles.**

He had just put his phone away when it vibrated.

Derek- **This is Derek.**

He grinned when he saw the message. “You’re sitting right next to me,” he said.

Derek shrugged. “I felt it deserved a reply.”

Stiles’s smile turned into a laugh, then his phone vibrated again. He shook his head at Derek, still grinning. “Really?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Not me this time.”

Stiles rolled his eyes when he turned the screen on.

Scott- **You did NOT go grocery shopping last weekend, kids and I are hungry.**

Stiles typed back quickly, noting that Derek wasn’t even trying to read over his shoulder.

**Go get something.**

His phone buzzed almost immediately.

Scott- **You have Mighty Max’s carseat. We require food.**

Stiles sighed.

“Do you have to go?” Derek asked.

Stiles thought he sounded disappointed, but when he checked, his expression was calm and understanding.

“Yeah, I probably should,” he admitted. “Or I may come back to a half-eaten sofa.”

Derek smiled while he texted Scott back that he’d bring something home.

“Uh, hey,” Derek began. “Don’t take everything your kids say with a grain of salt. Chances are they know more about what they’re talking about than you realize.”

Stiles stilled, slowly looking up at him. “Does that mean I have leprechauns watching my house?”

Derek stilled as well, slight wrinkles creasing his forehead. “I don’t think leprechauns _exactly_ , but my mom’s looking into it. Whatever it is shouldn’t bother you though, if they have any manners.”

Stiles felt himself nod, trying to let Derek’s words sink in. _I don’t think leprechauns_ exactly. As if they were real.

He began playing with his car keys.

“Do you want to know what I am?” Derek asked softly.

Stiles gripped the keys tight, as his thoughts began to whirl.

“No,” he finally answered. “I don’t think I’d be able to handle that at the moment.”

Derek nodded and gave him an encouraging smile.

“You can choose where we go next time,” Stiles said, stepping back toward the jeep but still watching Derek.

Derek’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. “I can do that. Have a good night.”

“Good night,” Stiles waved.


	6. Chapter 6

All Stiles saw when he entered the house was a flash of beige when a pillow smacked the side of his head. He blinked, dazed, and trying not to drop the groceries in his hands.

“The Warden’s been hit!” Max yelled in terror, grabbing a throw pillow off the floor and leaping over the back of the couch.

Which, Stiles noted, had been pushed out of its usual position and faced backwards against the wall.

“General, he comes with a sacrifice,” Scott boomed from the stairs. “I can see it cowering in his hands.”

Max poked his head up behind the couch, his face covered in what Stiles hoped was Halloween make-up. Blood trails were drawn across his cheek and down his arms, smatterings of camouflage on his nose and chin, distorted butterflies drawn on his temple.

Sam looked skeptically at him as he rounded the corner of the kitchen, a pale blue pillow in his grasp.

“What offerings have you brought for The General, The Healer, and The Scott?” Sam asked gravely.

Stiles saw Scott lean against the wall, laughing so hard tears began to trail down his face. He glanced at the bags in his hands.

“Pizza,” he finally announced.

A loud roaring cheer erupted from Sam and Max, the remaining pillows flying into the air. Even Scott joined them in the victory yell as he descended the steps.

“The Scott?” Stiles asked, eyebrow raised.

“I don’t get a nickname.” Scott gave a negligent shrug. “I’m so awesome, I don’t need one.”

Stiles could see warrior markings drawn in yellow across Scott’s face and what he thought looked like necrosis on his arms.

“Bruises,” Scott said with a wink. 

Stiles nodded, going into the kitchen to set everything down.

“Wait!” Sam cried when Scott and Max tried to follow. “You can’t dine with The Warden looking like _that_.”

Scott and Max exchanged offended looks while Sam dug through the kitchen drawers until he found a hand towel. He drenched it in the sink and carried it, dripping, to them.

“I am a healer of a thousand years, I can heal you,” Sam announced, rubbing the bruises off Scott’s arms, then turning toward Max.

“I can heal myself.” Max took the towel and wiped himself clean as best as a six year old could.

“Definitely bath night,” Stiles muttered.

“It’s a miracle!” Max yelled, holding his arms out.

Sam and Scott joined him in cheering, then Scott gasped. “We need to clean up the battle field, the sacrifices can’t be served into a mess like that. That’s disrespectful!”

Max gasped as well, hands flying to cover his mouth. “Hurry, Sam, we don’t want to be disrespectful!” He darted into the living room, throwing pillows in the general direction of where they were supposed to go.

“That was the best game of pretend I have played since we imagined the floor was lava and dragons lived in it,” Scott mused once the living room was cleaned. “Remember, we had the whole house rigged so we didn’t have to touch the floor.”

Scott checked the time on the pizza boxes and set the oven timer.

“Dad found apples hidden everywhere for weeks.”

Scott grinned sadly at the memory. “He’d love to see the boys, how they are now.”

Stiles pressed his lips together sadly, drawing a slow breath. “Yeah.”

Scott sat on the counter, tilting his head thoughtfully.

“How’s Derek?” he asked slowly.

“Good. We didn’t talk for very long. I got interrupted.”

"We were starving," Scott said flatly. "Did you really sit in the library and talk?"

"No," Stiles scoffed.

As Scott's face lit up, he continued, "We sat outside and talked."  
“God, that has to be the lamest “meeting” ever. Please tell me he’s choosing what you guys are going to do next.”

Stiles glowered, refusing to answer.

“Do I have to take a bath tonight?” Max asked from the living room. “I took one the day before yesterday.”

“Back in my day, I had to take a bath every day,” Scott said before Stiles could answer.

“That sounds horrible,” Sam sympathized, entering the kitchen.

Scott looked back at Stiles. “When are you seeing him again?” he asked sweetly.

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You didn’t set anything up?” Scott’s eyes went wide.

“We exchanged numbers!” Stiles shot back defensively.

“Well, thank god for that!” Scott exclaimed. “I thought I may actually have to go to Starbucks myself and give it to him.”

“Dad, have you have angered The Scott?” Sam asked, sitting at the table.

A smile instantly sprung on Scott’s face.

“No,” Stiles said, surveying “the” Scott. “But I feel I have somehow disappointed him. Though it’s really none of his business.”

“It is _all_ of my business,” Scott emphasized. “Every single bit. I have _earned_ the rights to know.”

"Earned the rights? Are the rights like prizes?" Max asked, his eyes lighting up. "Like turning in tickets at Chuck E Cheese and getting a prize?"

Scott’s expression faltered. “Uh, kind of….”

Max spun on his heel, darting out of the kitchen briefly and reappearing with a piece of paper marked up in crayon.

“Here you go.” Max held it out to Scott. “You have earned a ‘right to know’.”

Scott fumbled for a response and Stiles hid a smile in his shoulder, curious as to what that ‘right to know’ was.

“Thank you,” Scott said seriously, bringing the paper over his heart. “I will cherish this.”

Max giggled.

Scott stayed for pizza, instigating a playful argument with Sam over the last slice of pepperoni.

“Well, I better get going,” Scott finally said when the last of the dishes were taken care of. “That way I can be here bright and early tomorrow.” He pulled the Halloween face paints from his pocket and handed them over to Stiles. “I don’t know where they pulled these from but we used them.”

Stiles shrugged. “I didn’t know I had any. I’ll keep them safe, though.”

Scott saluted the boys. “Until next time, brave soldiers.”

Sam and Max copied him.

Sam grew still and quiet after Scott left, occasionally looking at Stiles as if trying to gauge his mood.

Stiles sat on the couch in between his boys. Sam had begun playing with his necklace again.

Stiles took a deep breath, calming his thoughts and trying to figure out how to word his question. 

Sam heard him and waited expectantly.

“You can’t talk to me about magic.” Saying the words felt strange, but Sam shook his head ‘no’. “Because of that crystal?”

Sam went still. “I don’t know.”

Stiles let out a long breath. “And that means I asked something you can’t answer.”

“I don’t know,” Sam breathed again. 

Stiles heard the frustration in his tone.

“You’re right,” Max said from the other end of the sofa. “You asked him something he can’t answer, but wrong about the crystal causing it.”

Sam flinched, mouth opening and closing with a snap. He suddenly froze, eyes growing wide as he stared at Max. Max sat upright in excitement.

“You were able to ask about the crystal!” Max gasped, looking from Stiles to Sam.

Stiles frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You’ve asked about it in the past, well, tried to. But the crystal is supposed to hide Sam’s magic, so it makes people forget their question before they ask. But you just asked.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles asked slowly.

“I don’t know, but you asked!” Max’s eyes were still wide. “Maybe how you phrased it?”

Sam shook his head quickly, looking around Stiles at Max. “Is it broken?” His words sounded choked and forced.

Max stared at him, then shook his head too. “I can’t see anything.”

“See what?” Stiles asked, feeling like he was missing an important part of the conversation. 

“People have lights.” Sam’s words were soft as he focused on Max. “The lights look different depending on what they are, like halos around people.”

Max’s eyes were growing even wider with each word, his mouth slowly falling open.

“You’re talking to _dad_ ,” he gasped. 

Sam shook his head. “I’m talking to you, not him.” 

A look of sudden relief washed over Sam’s features and Stiles’s heart skipped a beat.

“The crystal hides my magic. To anyone looking at me, I look human.” Sam finished the sentence out of breath, like he had just run a marathon.

“You can talk to other people, but not me?” Stiles could hear the hurt in his own voice.

Sam nodded, still looking at Max. “Mom and I did a spell so I couldn’t accidentally tell you about it. Humans who know are in danger from hunters.” Each word was getting quieter and quieter, beads of sweat forming on Sam’s forehead and neck.

“There’re people who hunt…” Stiles trailed off when Sam began talking.

“People hunt everything. Witches, werewolves, vampires, leprechauns.” Sam stopped when Stiles tensed.

“Too much at once?” Sam asked slowly, clearly wondering if he had overstepped some unseen line.

“A bit,” Stiles breathed.

Max flopped sideways, laying across Stiles’s lap. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Stiles replied, running a hand through Max’s hair.

Sam didn’t say anything else, only wiped at the sweat on his face and gave Max a shaky grin.

"I can talk about it...kind of," he whispered, eyes filled with shock and hope.

Stiles placed an arm around Sam’s shoulders.

He wanted to ask if it really had been difficult for him to talk about magic with Stiles in the room. He hadn't been an active part of the conversation, but he could deduce that it was difficult anyway from what he'd seen.

“Showers or baths, then bed,” Stiles said reluctantly. He was enjoying the feeling of Sam and Max curled against him.

“Hair, Sam,” he added. 

Sam’s head fell but he nodded.

***

Stiles had hardly been asleep ten minutes when he felt the other side of the bed dip. He opened his eyes and saw Max crawling across the blankets toward him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, half asleep.

“The leprechaun’s back.”

Adrenaline shot through Stiles's body. He sat up a little and let Max crawl under the covers. He recalled Derek telling him that whatever it was should leave them alone. He wondered if it was just "curious".

He put his arm over Max when he snuggled in. "It's fine, buddy. Let's just go back to sleep. We're safe in here."

Later that night Sam entered his room as well, crawling under the blankets on the other side of him. 

Stiles woke just enough to feel Sam tug at the blankets and hear the wind rattle the window.

***

Scott denied hearing any wind when he arrived the next morning. His hair was a mess and dark circles were painted under his eyes.

“No wind, but slept terrible,” Scott moaned. “The Scott is exhausted.” He flopped face-first on the couch, his feet hanging off the opposite arm rest.

Max climbed on his back, resting his head between Scott’s shoulder blades and closing his eyes.

“I think a blanket and pillow fort and a movie marathon is the game of the day,” Scott said, his voice muffled by the cushions.

Max and Sam both nodded.

“And ice cream,” Sam added.

Scott’s laugh echoed through the living room. “Yes.”

***

Stiles was sitting at his desk when his phone vibrated next to the keyboard. He snatched it up, expecting to see Scott’s name.

 **Derek** \- _want to see a movie this weekend and maybe get dinner?_

Stiles nodded even though he knew Derek couldn’t see him. 

_What day?_

**Derek** \- _Saturday?_

Stiles sent a quick message to Scott to see if he could watch Sam and Max. Scott replied several minutes later with “sure thing” and Stiles flipped back to the conversation with Derek.

_Sure, what movie?_

**Derek** \- _Kid friendly or no?_

Stiles thought it was sweet Derek was being considerate of the kids but texted back.

_I have a babysitter for that day, adult movie is good._

**Derek** \- _San Andreas good? Starts at 6pm._

Stiles thought briefly to the commercials he saw for the movie and replied.

_Good to me, see you then._

He sat back in his chair smiling, the same warm feeling from before creeping into his stomach.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning for the movie San Andreas. 
> 
> See the end of chapter notes for more detailed warnings/potential triggers!

Stiles began noticing small things here and there. The Wii began working every morning but quit by the time Scott came over.

Dishes were retrieved from shelves too high for the boys to reach. Things were put away or gotten out without one or the other moving.

Every time Stiles noticed something he felt his insides clench uneasily, but he forced himself to relax. And when Saturday morning rolled around, he was slightly more relaxed about it.

Sam was considerate enough about not doing a lot of magic when Stiles was around, but he had had to warn Max multiple times not to use it too much.

“I’m sure it’s not good to rely on it,” Stiles said after Max had set the table without lifting a finger.

“Using magic affects our light,” Sam said, motioning at himself and Max and frowning at his brother. “It makes us shine brighter while we use it. Mom never liked me to use it until I got this.” He touched the crystal. “But I don’t know where we can find you one.” 

Just like before when Sam spoke about magic around Stiles, he quickly became breathless, struggling by the end to pronounce the words.

Stiles frowned, silently cursing Molly for using magic on their child, especially when he may have needed to be able to speak to him about magic. Like now.

“Be good for Scott tonight,” Stiles instructed, taking the pot roast from the oven.

He placed it on the stovetop to cool. “No magic.” He wasn’t sure if he needed to clarify but he felt better doing so.

The boys gave him exasperated _duh_ looks.

“No obvious magic,” Max said, hanging his head off the end of the couch.

Stiles bit his tongue, the words "No magic at all" hanging on his lips. He hesitated, acknowledging—to himself—that they had hid it fairly well from Scott so far.

“Dad, we know what we’re doing,” Sam said.

Stiles seriously doubted that, but began to cut vegetables and place them in the steamer.

“Is there food this time?” Scott asked, letting himself in the front door.

Stiles rolled his eyes and Sam laughed.

“We ate it all!” Max said loudly, flipping backwards off the couch.

Scott grabbed his stomach dramatically, “I may _starve_!”

Max laughed, watching Scott go past and enter the kitchen.

“You know, you could bring your own food,” Stiles said when Scott reached in front of him for a roll.

“Too much work, I’d rather eat yours,” Scott admitted, taking a bite of the bread. He swallowed loudly. “I require two things from you tonight, that’s all.”

Stiles felt the glower set in on his face when Scott asked, “Do you know what those two things are?”

"I'm sure you'll tell me." Stiles dumped the rest of the vegetables into the steamer and shot Scott a narrow-eyed glare as he stepped around him, getting his coat from the hall closet.

“Food,” Scott ticked off a point on his finger. “And a full report of what happened when you get back.”

Stiles rolled his eyes again. “You can have the first, I will consider the second.”

Scott laughed, raising his roll above his head when Max made a leap to try and take it from him.

“Be good,” Stiles said, grabbing Max around the middle when he tried to run by. He lifted him and kissed his cheek before setting him back on his feet and hugging Sam. “You be good, too.”

“I’m always good,” Sam muttered.

“Are not!” Max cried, jumping back onto the sofa. “You get in more trouble than I do.”

“Not true!” Sam shot back.

“Bye,” Stiles mouthed to Scott.

Scott stuffed the last of the bread into his mouth, waving.

Stiles had hardly stepped outside before Derek pulled up. Stiles walked up to the passenger door, watching Derek lean across and open it.

“How was your day?” Stiles asked, sliding into the seat and buckling his seat belt. His leg bounced nervously as he waited for a reply.

“Good,” Derek replied easily. “How about yours?”

“Calm,” Stiles said. “It was nice, actually.”

Derek smiled. “Glad to hear it. Do you want to get dinner before or after the movie?”

Stiles shrugged, “Up to you. When did you eat lunch?”

“Not too long ago. If you’re okay with waiting, after the movie is probably better. If we go now we will be cutting it close to the start time.”

Stiles nodded, running a hand along the inside of the car door. “Your car is really nice.”

“Thanks.”

Stiles could hear the smile in his tone and grinned, looking out the window. Happiness bloomed in his stomach, spreading up to his chest and making him want to laugh.

The ride to the theater was spent with small talk, asking easy questions like how old the boys were, what TV shows Stiles liked, Derek’s favorite band, trying to find common interests. Interests outside of the magic and glowing eyes, of course. Stiles wasn't going to let that affect his date.

The theater itself was just as packed as Stiles had guessed it would be on a Saturday night. Derek paid for the tickets before Stiles could say anything, so he slipped off and got popcorn and drinks.

“Hope Coke or Mountain Dew is okay. I didn’t know what you liked.” Stiles said, trying to juggle the two large drinks and extra-large popcorn.

Derek chuckled. “Mountain Dew is good, thank you.” He took the drink from Stiles so he had less to hold.

They found seats in the very back. Stiles sat to Derek’s left, placing the cold drink in the cup holder. 

When the lights dimmed he wiggled in his seat, accidentally bumping his shoulder against Derek’s.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Derek bumped him back and Stiles laughed, barely remembering to keep quiet.

The beginning of the movie was good. When the earthquake began Stiles tightened his grip on the armrests and jumped when his cellphone buzzed, his pocket lighting up.

“Shit,” he muttered. 

A few people around them glared accusingly as he held down the power button and it shut down.

Stiles was tense through most of the scenes. He grinned when the little boy tried to set his older brother up with the girl, and he wiggled more and more each time the girl’s parents got closer to finding her.

When the tsunami began to push through the city he stopped wiggling, vowing to never let Sam watch this movie, especially when people were shown being swept away.

Derek’s hand found its way onto his, a gentle pressure asking if he was okay. Stiles clasped his hand back, but never took his eyes off the screen. 

Stiles felt his breath catch in his lungs when the girl got trapped in a room and the water began rising. His heart pounded in his chest the deeper the water got, and then became painful when her dad couldn’t break the door open.

Stiles could no longer feel his hand that Derek had been holding.

The girl was underwater. Stiles was sure he wasn’t breathing either though he still stared, unable to tear his gaze away. His chest constricted with each failed attempt to get her out. Then she went limp.

A hand gently grabbed his shoulder, and another his chin, slowly turning him away from the movie. Derek was leaning close to him, eyes full of concern.

“You want to leave?” Derek’s question was simple, unjudging.

Stiles looked back toward the movie, the girl was now on the boat, limp and unresponsive to the CPR being provided.

He took a shuddering breath. He no longer saw the girl on the boat, but Sam in the grass, laying on his back, face pale and lips blue.

“Come on.” Derek stood up, pulling Stiles with him.

If Derek hadn’t been there, Stiles was sure he would have just sat in the back row and cried until the movie was over, unable to get his muscles to function properly.

Derek let him lean on him for support when his legs gave out on the steps to the hallway. When the theater door closed behind them, Derek stepped to the side, pulling Stiles into a comforting hug. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see that in the commercials. You even told me –I wouldn’t have ever suggested that movie if –I’m so sorry.”

Stiles leaned into him, not trusting his legs to support his weight.

“Not your fault,” Stiles gasped, trying to compose himself. 

He rubbed at his eyes frantically, giving a shaky laugh. “I’m not even the one who nearly drowned.” His voice cracked.

Derek led him to a bench and pulled him down next to him.

“No, but you were there.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded anyway. He was taking hitching gasps for air but he had managed to get the tears to stop.

“It’s a movie,” Stiles said. “I know it’s not real, I just….” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

Derek scowled. “Sorry for what?” he demanded. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Stiles didn’t argue, only leaned against him more, the touch making him feel calmer, forcing him to stay in the present.

Derek bean rubbing his back, awkwardly at first, but when Stiles didn’t stop him, his movements became steadier. 

When Stiles could breathe properly again he gave a low sigh, his heart slowing to a normal pace. They sat there for several more minutes before the hand disappeared from his back.

"Do you still want to go get dinner?" Derek asked gently. "Or would you rather go home?" His face was open and kind, as if whatever answer Stiles gave him would be okay with him.

He shook his head. “Let’s go get dinner.”

Derek smiled hesitantly and waited for Stiles to stand before following his example. 

“Did you have anywhere you wanted to go? I was thinking Red Robin sounded good.”

Stiles was nodding before Derek finished speaking. 

“Red Robin sounds good,” he agreed. He hesitantly took Derek’s hand as they walked, giving him ample time to pull away if he wanted to.

Derek’s grip only tightened around his.

The restaurant was almost empty when they arrived. They ordered an appetizer and their food as soon as they sat down.

“Do you come here a lot?” Stiles asked when Derek didn’t have to look at the menu.

Derek grinned. “Not really. My sister used to work here. I helped her study the menu.”

Stiles blinked, wondering if he had ever seen her.

“What about you?” Derek asked.

Stiles took a drink of water. “Sam likes to come here for his birthday. We usually celebrate whatever weekend falls closest to it since his mom usually has him on his birthday.”

Derek nodded and they lapsed into comfortable silence. 

The appetizer came out quickly.

Stiles told Derek about finding Scott and the boys playing pretend, and then about him and Scott hiding apples for the dragons that lived in the lava floor.

Derek laughed when Stiles got to the part about his dad finding rotten apples weeks later.

“No one smelled them?” he asked, his nose wrinkled at the thought.

“We never smelled anything.” Stiles shrugged. 

He sat back in his chair when the waiter returned with their food. He dug into his burger enthusiastically, not realizing how hungry he actually was. 

Derek ordered dessert to take home. Stiles declined when he asked if he wanted anything else.

They were walking to the car when Stiles pulled his phone out to check the time. He frowned when the screen didn’t light up.

“I forgot I turned it off,” he muttered when Derek glanced at him.

The loading screen nearly blinded him in the darkness, then his phone began vibrating as texts came in.

 **Scott** \- _Do you have any ice cream?_

 **Scott** \- _found it, never mind, have fun._

 **Scott** \- _There’s someone in your yard._

 **Scott** \- _Are you expecting company?_

**Scott missed calls x3**

**Scott** \- _Max says it’s a leprechaun??_

Stiles felt his blood run cold.

 **Scott** \- _Please come home when you get this, I’m calling the police._

 **Scott** \- _Where are you???_

His phone buzzed again, the voicemail image flashing.

He pressed it, bringing the phone to his ear. He heard garbled background noise first, then Scott’s hard voice.

“Stiles? Hey, someone’s here to see you? They’re asking about Molly. I don’t trust them.” 

In the background Stiles heard Max say, “It’s the leprechaun,” and Sam began to argue.

“It’s not a leprechaun, I can’t tell what it is.”

“Look, I don’t like this, I’d feel better if you came home.”

The tone in Scott’s voice made chills run up Stiles’s spine.

He hung up and stared at Derek, who was already unlocking the passenger door.

He got in quickly and Derek pulled out of the parking lot.

“You heard?” Stiles asked, needing talk before he went crazy.

“Yeah,” Derek said, his face a blank mask as he ran a yellow light.

“This is the most adventurous second date I’ve ever had.” Stiles knew the joke fell flat but he could feel his hands beginning to twitch in anxiety when he realized he had nothing to do except wait until they got home.

Smoke filled the street the closer they got to the house. Stiles’s muscles were so tense they hurt. He gasped when the house came into view.

Smoke billowed from the roof, tongues of fire illuminating the windows and cracks around the doors.

Stiles jumped from the car before Derek stopped, heart racing and knees shaking as he sprinted toward the front door. He thought he heard Derek say something but he ignored him, charging for the house. The handle was hot, but he wrenched it open anyway.

“Sam!” he yelled, choking as smoke filled his lungs.

Structural beams had fallen across the living room, smoldering as the house burned. Embers drifted through the charged air, making it painful to breathe. They burned Stiles’s face and arms, pinpricks of pain on his exposed skin.

Scott laid on the floor next to the couch, unconscious. He had burns and soot on his face, and it looked like his legs were pinned by a beam, angled awkwardly. They looked like they belonged to a broken doll.

The stairs cracked loudly, so Stiles spun around, looking up. They seemed to undulate like they were liquid, before a muffled snapping noise came from the middle. The middle section of the stairs collapsed in a burst of dust and flame, a gaping hole separating the ground floor from the second.

“Max!” Stiles yelled as he scrambled through the ashes toward Scott.

Something burst, burning shrapnel searing his cheek.

Scott didn’t move when Stiles shook his shoulder and called his name. Stiles covered his mouth with his elbow as he choked, his eyes watering and chest heaving as he tried to tug Scott loose. 

Stiles jumped when a crash came from behind him. He turned his head to see that someone had kicked down the door that had slammed shut behind him.

He recognized Derek as he crossed the house, lifting the beam enough for Stiles to pull Scott’s legs free. Derek picked Scott up, carrying him toward the front door.

“Dad!”

Stiles jerked around at the muffled scream, eyes flying toward the stairs. His heart stopped.

“Dad, help!” Max was at the top of the steps, staring at where the stairs had once been. He paced closer to the edge then back a few steps, the drop too far to jump. “I’m stuck!” Max cried, tears streaming down his cheeks.

He was covered in ash, his eyes rounded with terror, the edges of his pajamas singed. “Dad!” he shrieked when something came down behind him. He clung to the unstable railing near the stairs, crying loudly and choking.

Stiles took a step toward him, but movement by the dining room made him turn his head.

Half under the table was Sam. He was on his side, his eyes partially open and glazed over. Blood mixed with ash in his hair.

Stiles’s heart skipped a beat. He stopped breathing. All he could see was Sam under the water, eyes blank and open, unmoving and lifeless. Sam dying, feet away from him.

“Dad,” Max begged, reaching out for him but not moving any closer to the edge.

Stiles stood between them.

Sam was closer than Max was.

The ceiling popped deafeningly. He wouldn’t be able to get them both. He couldn’t breathe.

Stiles ground his teeth. He would have to try. He leapt toward Sam, scooping him under his arm.

“Dad!” Max screamed, coughing as smoke enveloped him like creeping, smothering arms.

Stiles had just started moving toward the staircase when a figure began approaching Max on the second floor. Stiles stopped. Was that Derek?

The house shuddered; another beam collapsed in front of him, sending sparks and flames shooting around them.

Arms wrapped around his middle, dragging him toward the front door.

“The house is going to collapse,” Derek yelled in his ear.

Stiles stared as the figure behind Max picked him up, turning and walking back down the hall. Smoke closed behind them.

“Max!” Stiles shouted, struggling desperately against Derek. He clawed and kicked and raged, tears running down his face.

Derek carried him past the jeep to the edge of the driveway.

“Are you really going to go back in there with Sam?” Derek demanded, catching him as he tried to run back to the house.

The question startled Stiles enough to go still, eyes searching the windows and doors for Max. He watched in wide eyed terror as the roof began to cave in, slowly at first, then just falling in on itself completely. A shower of sparks cascaded over the yard, little embers catching in the summer-dried yard.

“Stay here.” Derek’s words were a guttural growl, his eyes flashing gold as he tracked something in the backyard.

Stiles watched numbly as Derek’s form began to change. He was no longer standing next to a man, but a wolf.

The animal, the wolf, Derek, ran around the side of the burning house, a loud howl tearing from his throat.

Stiles slid into the grass, pulling Sam’s limp from across his lap and hugging him tightly, rocking back and forth.

Next to them, Scott groaned, blinking rapidly. He started to shift around and cough violently.

“What the fuck happened?!” Stiles demanded, tears in his eyes. The force of his fury shook him, his grip convulsing on Sam.

Scott flinched, his eyes struggling to focus on Stiles’s face.

Stiles could see burns along his face and arms and pain etched into every one of his features, but his anger sprung to a boil, and words began frothing out.

“I leave you in charge and this happens? You were supposed to be watching them! Is this the kind of ‘juicy story’ you wanted to tell me about when you were so disappointed they were good kids?”

“Where’s Max?” Scott asked breathlessly, seeing Sam in Stiles’s grasp.

Stiles took a deep breath. “IN THE FUCKING HOUSE!” he shouted

Scott’s eyes flicked to the pile of burning material and slowly closed.

“Stiles,” he began, struggling to sit up. He gasped and fell back down, letting out a cry of pain.

“No!” Stiles interrupted, glaring at Scott. “I don’t want to hear you say a goddamned word. And don’t you ever come near me again, or Sam.”

Scott flinched again, heaving for breath and crying.

“This is your fault.” Stiles covered his face with his hands, sobbing. “All your fault.” He sucked in a sharp breath of air. “Max,” he choked, his body trembling with the force of his crying.

Paramedics and firemen pulled up with skidding wheels and blinding lights.

An oxygen mask was pressed to Stiles’s face.

He saw Scott being wrapped in a blanket and loaded onto an ambulance. 

Sam had woken up and stared at the firemen from beneath his own mask. He hadn’t asked about Max, and Stiles was thankful. 

“Have Alan come to the house.”

Stiles jumped at Derek’s voice. He was human again, standing in the front yard with his phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m fine, just have him there.” Derek hung up, crossing the yard toward them.

When he came level with Stiles and Sam, Stiles blinked at him.

Derek was a werewolf. The thought seemed to drown out all of what Derek was telling him. He could see his mouth moving as he spoke, but no sound reached his ears. 

Derek placed a hand on Stiles’s shoulder.

“Max is alive,” he said softly. “He wasn’t in the house when it collapsed.”

Stiles stopped breathing, hope surging through him.

“My family and I will help you find him,” Derek promised.

Stiles nodded stiffly. Sam looked up at him.

“Find him?” Sam asked weakly, his voice rough. “He’s gone?”

Derek kneeled next to them, looking Sam in the eyes. “My family already agreed to help find him. And my brothers and uncle are trying to track the man who took him.”

Sam nodded slowly, avoiding Derek’s gaze.

“My family has an emissary,” Derek said, rising to look at Stiles. “We should go back to my place and he can look at you and Sam, make sure the two of you are okay.”

Stiles felt a pit begin to form in his stomach, but he nodded again. They had nowhere to go anyway.

Sam leaned into Stiles’s side, eyes brimming with tears. “I want my baby brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for:  
> Panic Attack, Memories of seeing Someone Drown, Someone Drowning in a Movie, a House Fire, and Hard Parental Decisions.
> 
> Stiles has a panic attack during the movie San Andreas when a Main Character is drowning. He flashes back to seeing Sam drown as a toddler.
> 
> Later, Stiles gets a strange call from Scott and upon going home finds the house engulfed in flames. He rushes in side to save his kids and finds himself between them and has to decide who to save.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See new authors note at beginning of fic.

Sam curled into a ball in the back seat of the camaro, his eyes staring blankly at the back of Derek’s seat.

Stiles didn’t say anything.

When they pulled onto a long driveway Stiles let out a breath.

Derek glanced at him in concern but didn’t speak.

A line of various cars lined the grass in front of a huge house.

Stiles blinked dumbly, every light in the house was on, and they had hardly stopped the car when the front door swung open, a regal looking woman standing in the doorway.

Stiles got out when Derek did, walking around to Sam’s door when he didn’t move.

Derek crossed the yard toward the woman, who, Stiles now noted, was frowning.

“Come on,” Stiles said, trying to keep his voice even.

He picked Sam up, running a hand along his back. He hesitated when he saw Derek talking to the woman, each glanced at him and Sam.

A few faces appeared behind them in the entry way, expressions caring from concern to indifference.

Derek looked over at him again and waved him to come up to the door.

Stiles hesitated, were they all werewolves? The way they had gathered in the doorway gave him the impression of a pack of wolves guarding their den.

Derek was walking toward him when Stiles realized he wasn’t moving. 

The smell of smoke wafted up from Sam’s hair, a sharp reminder of what had just happened.

Derek took Stiles’s free hand.

“It’s okay,” he said reassuringly.

Sam flinched, not lifting his head from Stiles’s shoulder, or even glancing at Derek.

Stiles felt goosebumps rise on Sam’s skin and he began to follow Derek toward the house. Den?

“Alan’s in the living room, but he can see you in one of the spare bedrooms if that’d make you more comfortable.” Derek’s voice was soft, calm.

Stiles shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

He hesitated again on the porch, the crowd of people had not moved from their position in the entryway.

Derek snarled, stepping in front of Stiles and bracing himself to bump everyone out of their way.

Sam jumped at the sound, his whole body going tense.

Stiles pressed his hand protectively against Sam’s back, his own heart thumping rapidly.

The group quickly dispersed. The youngest lingered, throwing Stiles curious stares. The woman turned, giving the teen a sharp look, sending him in the other direction.

The hair on the back of Stiles’s neck and arms stood on end when he passed the lady, following Derek through the entryway and left into a large living room. 

He focused on the floor as he walked, watching each step and trying to focus on his breathing. 

A man sat on the couch and rose to his feet when they entered the room.

Stiles thought he looked familiar but didn’t have the energy to track down where he had seen him before.

“Please, sit down,” Alan said, motioning toward the couch.

Derek backed up so Stiles could get by, a wrinkle creasing his forehead when he saw Sam still hadn’t moved.

Stiles thought he saw Derek’s nostrils flare and he wondered if he was angry.

Alan was talking, Stiles answered the questions robotically, the previous question and answer already forgotten when Alan moved onto the the next.

“Alan is a talented witch.”

Stiles’s glaze shot to Derek, clearly hearing those words.

“He works as an emissary to my family, and as a doctor at the hospital.”

“H’, Dr. Deaton,” Sam whispered when Alan leaned over to see his face.

Stiles recognized the name immediately, he looked back at Alan, remembering him from the night he took Max to the emergency room. 

A small smile twitched at the corners of Alan’s mouth. “Hi, Sam.”

Derek fell silent, letting Alan work.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Alan asked.

Sam clutched the crystal around his neck.

Stiles felt Sam’s heartbeat quicken, sweat beginning soak the back of his shirt. He had just opened his mouth to say he would leave so Sam could talk to Alan when Sam took a deep breath, his eyes locking on Alan’s face.

“There, was a, witch, outside.” 

Derek stiffened, concern clearly spreading across his face as he watched Alan.

Sam’s clutch on the crystal tightened.

“He said he knew where my mom was.” 

The sentence was clear and fluent. And didn’t involve magic, Stiles realized, then the meaning of Sam’s words sank in. The person who had been outside his house had known where Molly was.

“Did you see what the man looked like?” Alan looked over Stile’s shoulder.

Stiles looked over as well, the same woman who had stood in the doorway now stood in the entrance of the living room. A shiver ran down his spine.

Sam shook his head. “The Scott blocked the door when they came up to it, and Max-” his voice cracked, “-Max and I couldn’t see them clearly from the window.”

Alan placed his hand on Sam’s, Sam relaxed into Stiles, breathing gradually slowing down to a more relaxed pace.

Alan straightened, glancing at Derek and the woman before turning to Stiles.

“I will need to speak to you.” 

Stiles heard the implied ‘alone’ clearly and looked down at Sam.

“Derek,” the woman’s tone cut crisply through the air, “show Sam where he can sleep, and get him something to drink.”

Yes,” Alan quickly agreed. “Lots of water, the heat from fire quickly dehydrates people.”

Sam looked at Stiles, his head bobbed from the effort to hold it up.

“Dad,” he said softly.

“Go ahead.” Stiles prompted, shifting Sam so he could stand.

Sam wobbled on his feet, taking Derek’s hand when he offered it.

Stiles was sure they were out of earshot when Alan began speaking again.

“You’ve realized by now their mom was a witch.” Alan’s voice was calm, like this was a topic he discussed every day.

Stiles nodded, suddenly exhausted. “Yes. Sam was talking to Max,” a fresh wave of sadness washed over him, but he pressed on. “Talking to Max in front of me, about it. He, can’t speak to me about it, it has to be to someone else. They told me about the crystal, too.”

Alan was nodding, face an unreadable mask. “Because of a spell. Stiles,” Alan said gravely, “Sam shouldn’t be able to speak about magic if you’re within earshot. That spell is commonly placed on child witches who have one parent who is human, as a way to protect the other parent. Any adult witches magic is strong enough to prevent any slip up from the child in question.” 

Stiles felt himself growing still. “So, why did it change if Molly should be able to keep the spell going?”

“Only the parent who placed the spell on the child can take it off,” Stiles felt his stomach sink into a knot. “And the spell is still going, or else Sam would be able to speak to you directly, so his mom has not taken taken it off.”

“But?” Stiles asked.

Alan stared at him. “I would be surprised if she were still alive.”

Stiles felt the air leave his lungs.

“You were able to gather information about the crystal Sam wears.” Stiles could hardly hear Alan’s words. “The magic around the crystal has no where to go when the caster dies, it needs someone it thinks as ‘in charge’ of it’s witch it’s supposed to protect. You are Sam’s other parent, so you were next on the ‘need to know’ list.”

“You make it sound like magic’s alive.” The words came out as a whisper and Stiles was glad he was sitting down.

“That’s actually a wonderful topic for debate, but let’s save that for another time.”

Alan didn’t say anything, and Stiles took the time to gather his thoughts.

“If, she's dead, will Sam ever be able to talk to me about magic?” Stiles recognized his voice but he hadn’t felt himself open his mouth to speak.

Sympathy flashed behind Alan’s eyes, “Not directly, no. Any spell that she placed on him, that was not released before her death is permanent.”

Max was gone, Scott was in the hospital, and Molly was probably dead. Stiles breathing quickened, the weight of the day’s events crashed down on him in a massive wave. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, he knew he was, he could hear the rasping sound of his breath, but no oxygen seemed to reach his lungs.

Alan took his hands in his own, leaning forward slightly. Stiles felt a sense of calm begin at his head and cascade down to his feet, relaxing every muscle down to his toes, leaving him even more exhausted than before.

The room swayed in and out of focus. He dimly noticed Alan straighten, mouth moving soundlessly.

The woman approached, gently lifting Stiles from the couch, carrying him like he was a child. If he hadn’t been so tired he was sure he would have been embarrassed, but at the moment he hardly cared. He felt himself being placed on a bed, he shifted his weight, and a small hand bumped his. Sam’s hand, he quickly recognized, drifting off.

***

Derek walked into the kitchen, blind from sleep.

“Morning,” he muttered, passing his mom.

“Good morning,” Talia breathed, blowing on her cup of coffee.

“I called out of work.” Derek said, digging through the fridge for eggs.

Talia nodded, unsurprised.

“Have they came home, yet?” Derek didn’t feel like the need to specify who he was asking about, his uncle and his three younger siblings hadn’t been home since he arrived with Sam and Stiles.

Talia shook her head.

“Damn,” Derek breathed, “I was hoping they’d have caught the guy and be back by now.”

“Same,” Talia set her cup down. “I’m going to work for a while. Try to act like there’s not a hunter around and freak too many people out.”

Derek gave a snort of laughter, the sound was certainly not genuine, and Talia bumped her arm against his. He let out a breath at the gesture. She would help find the person who took Max.

“Lovely date, Der.”

Derek glared at his older sister. “Shut up, Laura.”

Her hair was a tangled mess, and looked like she hadn’t gotten any sleep.

“You finally get the nerve to ask Starbucks Guy out and this happens.” Laura grabbed the pot of coffee and contemplated drinking straight from it. A glare from Talia had her reaching for a cup.

“If you got up at the ass crack of dawn just to annoy me, you have stopped to a new low.” Derek informed her, trying not to growl. 

The eggs on the stove began smoking, Laura flipped the dial from Hi to Low as she passed.

“Ruth and David kept me up all night.” She said, “I would much rather be asleep, but,” she spread her arms in a wide gesture. “As it is, I decided to get coffee before Starbucks Guys kid wakes up and I look like an animal without trying.”

“Their names are Stiles and Sam.” Derek corrected, smacking Laura’s hand out of the way when she reached for the last fork. “Mine, use a spoon.”

Laura opened her mouth to snarl something back.

“Children,” Talia warned, she gave them both a hug. “Be good.”

“Mom, we are adults. We have been adults for a while now.” Laura said, grabbing a spoon and hitting Derek with it on the shoulder.

“Yes,” Talia said, “and I still feel the need to tell you to be good.”

Laura rolled her eyes. 

“Bye,” she said when Talia grabbed her purse.

A door down the hall opened as Talia left and Laura threw her hands into the air. “If that’s Ruth up, already, I’m going to hurt Tim for letting her out of the crib.”

Derek smiled, imagining Laura’s mate passed out on the bed while Ruth ran rampant.

Light footsteps tracked down the hall and Derek dumped the eggs onto a plate. Ruth would be tearing through the house by now.

The smell of smoke and slight anxiety greeted his nose and he caught Laura’s eye.

“Sam,” he said softly, too softly for anyone but her to hear.

Laura glanced at the clock in repulsed horror.

“It’s six in the morning!” She hissed, “Why is he awake?”

“Maybe he couldn’t sleep?” Derek muttered.

“Good morning,” Laura greeted when Sam came around the corner.

Sam stopped, staring at her. He looked at Derek for a second.

He looked like he had been up for a while, and certainly didn’t still smell like sleep.  
 Sam crossed his legs, shifting his weight uneasily, confusion and slight embarrassment emanating from him as he wiggled his toes against the floor.

Derek raised an eyebrow in confusion when Sam didn’t ask what he needed.

“Bathroom’s the next door down.” Laura said, motioning with her hand.

Sam shuffled off and understanding dawned in Derek.

“Why didn’t he just ask?” he muttered, dodging another attack from Laura and the spoon.

“You have got to learn to understand the potty dance.” Laura scolded, sitting down at the table. “Though, yours was much more dramatic.” She glanced down at her long night shirt. “Guess I don’t look too terrifying, he didn’t run screaming.”

Sam reappeared a few minutes later, hovering by the counter until Laura pulled a seat out for him at the table. He sat down, shifting so his back was to the window and the pool outside.

“What do you like to eat for breakfast?” Derek asked, still by the oven.

“French toast.”

Derek stared at his burnt eggs while Laura dissolved into laughter, standing up.

“I’ll make some,” Laura hip checked Derek out of the way.

“Eggs are good, too,” Sam said hurriedly, seeing the plate on the counter.

“Those are burnt,” Laura scoffed, wrinkling her nose. 

Derek shrugged, committing himself to eating the food he had tried to make.

Sam was finishing his second plate of french toast when Derek and Laura looked up.

The front door opened and shut and four sets of footsteps echoed through the house.

“Bastard!” Derek heard Miles snap. “Both of them.”

“Language,” Laura said quickly.

“Please, have you heard yourself when you get angry? You curse like a- oh, hello.” Miles balked when he saw Sam sitting at the table, confusion flashed across his face before the scowl returned. 

Three more people trickled into the room.

“I’m showering,” Miles muttered moodily, leaving the room in trailing anger and frustration.

“They had wolfsbane and mountain ash.”

Derek looked up at his uncle, aghast. “They knew we were hear?” He asked, “Why else would they have those?”

“Yep,” Peter snagged a piece of french toast off the counter. “They waited for us too.”

“Everyone’s okay?” 

Sam lowered his head and Derek regretted his choice of words.

“More or less,” Peter studied Sam curiously. “Miles got burned by the wolfsbane but it wasn’t bad, he’s already healed.”

Derek stuffed the rest of his eggs into his mouth.

“Are you going to introduce us, or is Sam going to have to figure our names out on his own?” Peter asked lightly.

Sam smiled into his food.

Derek waved a hand frantically, indicating he had just taken a large bite. He swallowed and motioned to everyone around them.

“That’s Laura, and my Uncle Peter,” Derek began, realizing Sam was never introduced to any of them. “Miles was the one who ran for a shower, then that’s Cora and Alastor about to fight over the last donut.”

Sam giggled when everybody's gaze flicked to Cora and Alastor.

“That’s mine!” Laura snapped, waving the spatula threateningly.

“Let them work it out,” Peter said when Derek took half a step toward them. “Builds character.”

“Who’s throwing a party?” A voice asked blearily.

“Dad!” Laura, Cora, and Alastor chorused in varying influctuations. 

Mr. Hale froze in the doorway with a serious look of consideration on his face.

“I’ll be in the living room, someone let me know when everything’s worked out and I can get to the fridge.” His tone was light and half serious, he winked at Sam as he turned around.

Laura huffed an exaggerated sigh, then her eyes shot toward the hall. “David’s up,” She said, growling a warning to Cora and Alastor as she walked by.

***

Stiles rolled over, his arms spread wide on the mattress. His eyes slowly opened when he didn’t feel Sam next to him. He sat up, glancing at the clock on the dresser. 9am. His heart lurched, he hadn’t slept in that late in months.

He found the bathroom fairly easily, then began to follow the sound of conversation to the living room.

Sam sat on the end seat of the couch watching cartoons with a toddler next to him. He saw Derek sitting in an arm chair and gave a small smile.

“You sleep okay?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded, sitting in the other arm chair.

“Yes, thank you.”

“My dad said Alan will be over again today,” Derek said. “He wants to work with sam a bit on magic, give him some stuff he should practice.”

Sam looked up from the show. “Like what?”

Derek shrugged. “No idea.”

Stiles had met Laura, and her daughter Ruth, the toddler watching TV with Sam, and her son David, the baby strapped to her chest, and caught a glimpse of someone named Alastor as he ran out the door, late for the last day of school.

“I’d have skipped,” Laura muttered, watching the green Nissan pull out of the driveway.

“Yeah, but he likes school,” Derek countered.

Stiles hadn’t asked if they had caught the witch who had taken Max, he was sure they’d have told him if they had.

Everything seemed so calm around him while on the inside he screamed.

Alan arrived just as Laura was fixing lunch. Stiles had offered to help but she gently kicked him from the kitchen when Alan called him and Sam into the living room.

Alan had a colorful bag of marbles with him and Stiles watched as he dumped them neatly on the floor, motioning for Sam to get closer.

Derek hesitated, trying to figure out if he should leave or not, but Stiles grabbed his head, and he went still.

Someone stiles hadn’t met yet hovered briefly on the staircase, when Stiles turned to look at them they continued moving, disappearing around the corner before he could see them well.

“Can you pick up as many marbles as you can, with magic?” Alan tagged the last bit on as a second thought.

Sam watched him curiously, all the marbles rising a couple inches off the floor.

Stiles took a steading breath.

“Good,” Alan approved. “Now put every color but blue down.”

The marbles wobbled but none moved.

“It’s easier to control all of something, or nothing,” Alan explained. “If the lights ever flickered or went out, it was probably all of them, or if things got moved it was everything at once, not one at a time.”

Stiles nodded, the silverware on the ceiling, remotes clustered on the couch, the car- Stiles jerked, head snapping to Sam.

“Did Max start all the cars on the street?” Stiles stared wide eyed at Sam.

Sam shook his head, looking at Alan. “I, stopped him, I was the one to turn the car, on.” 

Red, yellow, and green marbles lowered themselves to the floor.

“Blue down, green and yellow up,” Alan instructed. “Try to bring them up at the same time.”

The blue marbles bounced to the floor, and the green began to rise. Sam frowned, staring intently at the yellow marbles. 

“No incantations, or hand signs?” Sties asked slowly. 

Alan shook his head, “Not for something this small, this is more control then power.”

Sam brought the yellow marbles level with the green. 

“Good, red and blue? Once you can pick two colors up at the same time, I want you to try picking up five marbles only, then five marbles of one color. Until, if I point to one at random, you can just lift that one.”

Sam nodded, sighing indignantly when the red marbles rose alone.

Alan worked one on one with Sam for awhile. Stiles had moved to sit on the couch with Derek.

“Sam’s doing well,” Derek said softly. “Alan’s impressed.”

Stiles looked at Alan’s perpetually calm expression. “I can’t tell,” he admitted.

Derek smiled, “I only know because I can smell it.”

“So, can you like, smell everything?” Stiles asked, turning to face him.

“I can smell everything you can only it’s amplified, and emotions. It takes practice to learn and tell them apart. People who are changed usually struggle at first.”

“So, people can be turned into werewolves?”

Derek nodded, “Only by an alpha.”

Stiles pressed his lips together in thought.

“Good,” Alan praised when the green and blue marbles rose together. “Practice that for a while, I’ll be right back.” He stood up, making eye contact with Stiles and tilting his head toward the door.

Stiles got up and followed.

Alan lead him into the kitchen, out of earshot of Sam.

“Someone was admitted to the hospital last night covered in third degree burns.” Alan said. Stiles noted he wasn’t using names, but already had a suspicion as to who it was. “They went into shock and are now in a medically induced coma because of the extent of their injuries.”

“Will he live?” Stiles asked, voice hardly audible. His gaze found everything except the person in front of him. 

Alan blinked. “We believe he has good chances.”

“I don’t want to see him.” Stiles said, tears prickling his eyes, a bitter part of him calling Scott’s situation karma.

“Stiles,” Alan began with endless patience. “He was up against witches, there was nothing he could do.”

“You weren’t there, you don’t know that.” Stiles snapped, the image of Max standing at the top of the broken staircase replaying in his mind.

“Neither do you,” Alan said, staring evenly at him.

“I don’t want to see him.” Stiles repeated, the tears tumbling down his cheeks.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See new authors note at beginning of fic.

Talia, Stiles learned, was the Hale Pack’s alpha. She called a pack meeting after dinner, requiring everyone, even Sam and himself, to join her in the living room. 

Stiles sat on the couch with Sam in his lap and Derek next to him. The others occupied every surface to sit on, and some even sat on the floor. Alan, who Stiles had thought had already left, even wandered in from somewhere. 

Laura distracted Ruth with a book while Tim held David in the crook of his arm.

“We were unable to catch them.” Peter began, the room grew even quieter. “We chased two adults, both on foot, down to the river.” His eyes sifted to Stiles and Sam. “They clearly had a child with them. The kid was unconscious but we could hear his breathing and heart beat.”

Stiles blinked, not realizing when Derek had said his smell was enhanced, that meant hearing as well. The teen Stiles had seen running off to school leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.

“They made a mountain ash boarder around a dock, and left on boat, throwing wolfsbane into the water behind them so we couldn’t follow.” He glanced at his older brother. Miles, Stiles remembered.

Miles glared, his eyes glowing yellow.

“We followed the boat from the shore, but lost sight when they took a channel on the opposite side.”

Talia nodded at Cora. “Did any of you get a good look at them? Notice anything unique or otherwise that we could use to identify them?”

“All I could smell was smoke,” Alastor admitted.

Cora and Miles nodded sullenly. 

“Peter?” Talia asked when he didn’t answer.

“Nothing that would be much to go off of,” Peter said flatly. “The man had been the one in the house while it was burning, and the lady handled the wolfsbane and mountain ash.”

“Gender is a fantastic place to start, Brother.” Talia said, a muscle in her face twitched. She surveyed the room. “While these two are still out there, no one under eighteen leaves the house without an adult and no one goes alone.”

“What?” Alastor cried in outrage.

Talia snarled, lips pulling back to reveal fangs and eyes flashing red.

Alastor ducked his head, suddenly finding his sock interesting.

“The man is bald.”

A dozen pairs of eyes flicked to Sam.

“His head, kept reflecting, the street light.” Sam said haltingly, nervous under the attention. “Before, the fire.” He pressed backwards against Stiles, as if trying to escape.

“You didn’t notice a bald head?” Laura asked the group who had given chase.

“He was covered in ashes and smoke!” Miles argued. “We were practically chasing on scent.”

“A witch out ran you?” Laura’s tone was growing in disbelief. 

Miles opened his mouth to snap something back when Peter interrupted him.

“Curious, isn’t it? I’ve never met a witch who could out run a ‘wolf.”

“Magic?” Alastor asked, glancing at Alan.

“Perhaps,” Alan mused.

Peter tapped a finger against his lips thoughtfully. “Bald would generally indicate older, and there was nothing about him to indicate otherwise. So, how would an old witch be able to out run four ‘wolves?”

“Magic.” Alastor said flatly.

“Okay,” Alan said. “But the question if magic is involved is what kind. That kind of spell wouldn’t be simple enough to do without a conductor. Incantations would work the best, take less of a toll on the caster, but the spell would be complicated and require massive amount of skill to do it successfully. Sigil would work if the witch were powerful enough, it is considerably simpler than incantation but takes a greater toll on the witch, they would be left with hardly any energy left if they didn’t have a strong magical connection.” Alan fell silent for half as second. “Blood magic would be trackable by scent, but would not be- ideally reversible, like the other two would be, and would be the strongest of the three.”

Peter let out a sigh that almost sounded bored. “We didn’t smell anything off.”

Alan nodded. “So, are you hunting a smart, possibly not very strong witch, or a powerful, possibly not-so-smart witch?”

Peter hummed in thought. “Well, which ever the case, the person’s still not very smart for messing with ‘wolves.”

“Peter, Cora, Miles, and Alastor, keep doing regular patrols of the area. Stick together and report back if you even think of something new.” Talia said. “Questions or concerns?”

Sam wiggled, eyes glancing up at Alan. “What about bonding magic?”

Derek tilted his head curiously.

“Possible but unlikely,” Alan said, then seeing the look on Stiles’s face decided to explain. “Bond magic is like a sacrifice. Usually it’s done between family members and isn’t controllable. The castor gives up something of theirs for spell, example, someone loses their sense of touch or taste to stop their loved one from bleeding out before help arrives. The caster has no idea what they will lose, or begin to lose, until after the spell is done; the magic itself takes what it deems is fair to do the job.” Alan let out a long breath. “So, in theory, someone could have gifted this man extra muscle mass but from who and at what cost?”

“Is it trackable or reversible?” Talia asked, eyebrows pulled down slightly.

“No, it leaves no traces and can’t be undone.” Alan said, a question hiding just behind his eyes as he looked back at Sam.

“Any other questions?” Talia frowned slightly.

When no one answered she made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

Peter and Cora left, and as if by some unspoken command, Alastor and Miles stayed. Mr. hale moved into the kitchen while Laura and Tim went off to put the kids to bed.

“Stiles,” Talia said.

He looked up at her.

“I have been trying to find clothes for you and Sam, but out of the numbers people who just left, it seems no one for got anything and I haven’t made it to the store.”

“Stiles can use some of my things,” Derek offered quickly.

Talia nodded, “If he wants to. I was going to say, Mike and I are going to the store tomorrow and can get you some things if you write down your sizes.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said.

Talia glanced from him to Sam. “Both of you are welcome to use the shower, no need to ask.”

Stiles felt his lips twitch, wondering if that was a not so subtle hint. 

“Thank you,” Stiles muttered again.

Talia nodded, moving to the kitchen, presumably after Mike.  “I don’t want a shower,” Sam said softly when Stiles stood up.

Stiles sighed, “I know.”

***

Derek sat at the kitchen table with Ruth while Laura made breakfast. Talia skimmed the newspaper next to him, glancing up when Peter strode in.

“Arnie McCouman is missing.” He said, taking a seat across from Talia.

Derek frowned. “Why’s that significant?” He moved Laura’s coffee cup when Ruth tried to grab it.

“He’s the emissary for the McCouman pack,” Peter said, as if Derek should know that. “The pack heard a commotion and was unable to help because a mountain ash barrier was placed around the room he was abducted from and another barrier was placed around the boat dock they chased them to, and mountain ash was thrown in the water behind them as they left.”

Talia set the paper down. “Basically, the same thing that happened to you.” She drummed her fingers against the table in thought. “Why are they targeting only witches?”

“Witches with involvement with ‘wolves.” Derek added.

“I’ll give Alan a call and see if he has any ideas.” Talia said.

Peter nodded, stretching with a yawn. “I’m off to bed, goodnight.”

The kitchen fell silent for a few minutes until Sam stumbled from the bedroom and into the living room, sitting on the couch.

Talia and Laura raised an eyebrow. Derek could hear the soft clink of marbles in Sam’s pocket, he glanced at the clock, 5am.

“Okay,” Laura said softly, setting Ruth’s food on the table. “I’m awake because I have a mouth to feed. Mom’s awake because she’s going to work. You’re awake because you usually go to work at unholy hours of the morning. And Uncle Peter was awake because he just got home. Why is Sam up this early? Is the bedroom too hot? Too cold?” She shrugged, “Is something wrong?”

Sam pulled a pillow into his lap, placing the marbles in a neat circle on the floor, oblivious to their conversation.

“I don’t know,” Derek admitted. He tilted his head toward the bedroom when the door opened again. Stiles was awake too. “Maybe he just gets up early? It’s not like he’s disturbing anyone.”

Marbles began to rise then lower down to the floor as Sam stared at them.

Stiles drifted into the kitchen as Talia was getting ready to leave, he jotted his and Sam’s clothing sizes down for her on a paper towel and handed them over as she walked out the door.

“Dad’s already at work,” Derek said. “He’s a contractor and mom’s his accountant, she usually goes to work after him but on the same days.”

Stiles felt his heart sink. “What day is it?”

“Saturday.” Laura said, pouring Ruth some orange juice.

“Crap,” Stiles breathed, running a hand through his hair. He had missed two days of work and hadn’t even called into say he wasn’t coming.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked.

“I’ll have to call my work on Monday and Tell them I won’t be in for a while. Not until all this is over. But they’re closed on weekends, so I can’t call now.”

“Take a leave of absence,” Laura suggested. “Family emergency.”

Stiles just nodded.

***

Talia and Mike came home around the same time. Talia handed Stiles two bags of clothes, one for him and one for Sam. Derek showed him the drawers of the dresser that were empty. And Stiles put everything away.

Alan showed up after dinner, still dressed in his uniform for the hospital.

Talia pulled him into the living room, and the pack members who were home followed.

Derek nudged Stiles and Sam toward the living room as well.

“This involves you,” he muttered.

Stiles sat on the floor and waited, wondering if this was going to be like the meeting the night before. 

“A witch went missing,” Talia said. “This time an adult, Arnie McCouman.”

Alan’s face remained blank but Derek could smell the shock and surprise and hear the skip of his heart.

“The witches who did this seemed to get away the same way the witches who took Max did.”

“You think it’s the same people?” Cora asked, pulling her legs beneath her on the couch.

“Sounds like it could be,” Derek chimed in.

“Why would witches kidnap other witches?” Cora demanded, glancing at him.

“Arnie is an emissary,” Alan said. “If the two are related, the question would be why they want witches with pack connections.”

Derek felt his chest puff out slightly when Alan voiced the same question he had that morning.

“Witches who become emissaries are more powerful.” Laura said, bouncing David on her knees. “They get power and protection from the pack. Maybe the witches wanted to show they were powerful enough to get away with taking him.”

“The McCouman’s were unable to stop them, yes. And Arnie was their emissary.” Peter argued, “But Max only knew our pack through Derek, there was hardly any connection at all.”

“They got away from us, why not use the same method to get away from another pack?” Tim suggested. “Maybe Max was a trial run and not their main target.”

“I’ll let the other alphas in the area know what happened to us and the McCoumans and tell them to keep their eyes out.” Talia said “Tim, can you check in with the McCoumans, see if they noticed anything about the witches and are, okay in a general sense?”

Tim nodded, pulling out his phone and texting someone.

Stiles nudged Sam when he clanked the marbles, he shook his head and Sam fell still.

“Is there any benefit to taking other witches?” Laura asked, looking at Alan.

Alan adopted a thoughtful expression. “Oh, dozens. Depending on the skill of those taking them and the ones taken, of course. There’s too many spells or sacrifices to list as to why they might need those two.”

“Three.”

For the second time the pack turned their attention to Sam. Derek smelt Sam’s increase in fear quickly being smothered by courage.

“The man said he knew where my mom was.” Sam’s voice was soft and Derek flinched when his mother’s temper flared. 

“Whenever you think of something like that, please let us know.” Talia said, keeping her voice calm.

Derek noticed Alan and Stiles stiffen. Alan seemed to be on the fence about saying something but Stiles spoke first.  “I don’t think they have her with them anymore.”

The sadness and anxiety that came with the words intensified when Talia opened her mouth to address Stiles. 

Alan interrupted. “Molly placed a protection spell on Sam so he wouldn’t be able to tell Stiles about magic, or speak of it when Stiles was in earshot. With almost any spell that needs a conductor, only the castor can take it off. As you have seen, Sam is now able to talk about magic in Stiles’s presence, but not directly. Indicating something has happened to Molly to weaken the spell.”

Derek hear the underlying meaning in Alan’s words and looked away when Sam voiced his same thought.

“She’s dead?”

“Why would someone do that to a child?” Talia growled. “What if Sam needed to tell Stiles something?”

Stiles was trying to redirect Sam’s attention as Alan answered Talia. “It puts any human at risk to know about supernaturals. They tend to become targets for hunters being the easiest prey. It’s common for witches to use the spell to keep the other, human, parent safe until the child is old enough to know not to say anything about magic to them.”

“Why just Sam? Max didn’t seem to be spelled.” Derek said quickly, recalling how freely Max had spoken in Starbucks.

“We thought he was human,” Sam said softly, eyes flicking anxiously from Alan to Stiles. “Is my mom dead?”

“We don’t know,” Stiles admitted.

“Something has happened to her magic, that’s all we know for sure.” Alan said diplomatically. 

Sam darted off toward the bedroom and before Stiles could follow Peter began addressing him.

“Has anyone contacted you about Molly disappearing?” Peter asked.

Stiles shook his head. “Only someone from the police department wanting to know about me and the boys. They asked horrible detective questions, but maybe they were just following a question sheet.”

“Do you remember their name?” Talia asked.

“Katie, or Kate.”

The room went so quiet Derek thought any sort of noise would make something shatter.

“Kate, what?” Talia asked, voice tense.

Stiles shook his head. “She didn’t say. Do you know her?”

“We don’t know her, but we know of her.” Mike said.

Talia growled, eyes flashing.

Peter stood up, leaving the living room and going out the front door, to find Alastor and Miles, Derek realized. 

Talia snarled, taking off after Peter.

Derek let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

“Who’s Kate?” Stiles asked when no one offered the information.

“A hunter, her and most of the other Argents.” Derek said. 

A glimmer of hope began to rise in Stiles’s scent and Derek had to look away.

“If we know who they took her, we can go get them back.” Stiles said in excitement.

“If it’s Kate Argent, it may not be that simple.” Alan muttered.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam was curled under the blankets when Stiles entered the bedroom. 

“Sam,” Stiles began, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

Sam didn’t move. 

“I don’t want to talk right now.” Sam sniffed.

Stiles sighed, hands overing over Sam like he wanted to comfort him but hesitating like he didn’t want to hurt him any more. Finally, he let his hands fall into his lap and sat there in silence.

Derek found him still sitting on the edge of the bed a few hours later, he paused in the doorway, glancing at Sam’s sleeping form.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly. “I’m surprised you’re still awake.”   
“I could say the same to you.”

Stiles pressed his lips together, thinking. “What’s this Kate person like? You guys all seem to know about her.”

“My pack has never dealt with Kate directly, but we have worked with people who have.” Derek said, sitting down next to Stiles. “They, the Argents, will hunt anything.”

“Just to kill them?” Stiles blurted. “Like it’s some sort of fucking sport?”

“Sometimes, other times it was for revenge, or because someone paid them to do it.” Derek let out a breath. “One of my mom’s friends was blinded by Gerard Argent, Kate’s dad. He stabbed Deucallion’s eyes with burning arrows.”

“He didn’t die?” Stiles asked, shocked.

“In order to die just from injuries they would have to be extensive enough that our bodies give up trying to heal themselves. Wolves tend to heal quickly, though we can be severely hurt, it’s rare we actually die from the injuries unless wolfsbane or mountain ash got in the wound.”

“So, wolfsbane and mountain ash, what do they do?”

“Wolfsbane burns us on contact and takes a long time to heal. and we can’t cross over mountain ash.”

“When they closed off the dock with mountain ash, you couldn’t get close to them?”

“No, and when Miles jumped into the water, even though the water diluted the wolfsbane powder he was still burned.”

Stiles ducked his head. “I appreciate your help.”

Derek placed an arm around his shoulders, giving him a brief hug. “We’ll find Max,” Derek promised.

Stiles nodded.

“Question,” Derek said quickly, his tone becoming instantly lighter. “Why does Sam get up so early?”

Stiles smiled though the happiness didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“He usually gets up when Max does, and Max has always gotten up early. I guess he just got used to it, or is trying to keep a routine he had before everything happened. I try to get up with them, for a while, when I first got visitations, I would get up to just spend time with them while I could. Then it turned into ‘ok, you’re old enough to play by yourselves’.” Stiles chuckled. “I made that mistake twice, a mess everywhere. And they’d never stay in bed, they’d just get sneakier about getting up. So, Molly began playing music when they got up, so now they turn YouTube on when they wake up. Kind of like an alarm clock. And when I hear it, I get up, spend some time with them before work. Even if I just want to go back to sleep.” Stiles smoothed the blanket. “And, I’m glad I do-did it, because if I hadn’t, that would be one more regret to deal with at the moment.” Stiles fell silent, and Derek didn’t say anything. Stiles added, “If he’s butting anyone when he gets up, I can make him stay in here with me. I didn’t hear him get up the other morning or I’d have gotten up as well.”

“He’s fine,” Derek said. “The pack as just curious if something was wrong.”

Stiles began fidgeting with the drawstring on his sweat pants.

“Do you want to go on a walk?” Derek asked. “No where far, just enough to get fresh air.”

“Talia said to stay inside.” Stiles muttered.

“She also said anyone over eight-teen can leave if they stick together.” Derek held his hand out in an offer. “I’m ninety percent certain that was aimed at Alastor. He likes to go off on runs alone.”

Stiles took his hand and Derek lead him from the from and through the dark house. The in-ground pool was lit by underwater lights and the water reflected off the deck and house.

Stiles followed Derek across the deck and down onto the concrete around the pool, and eventually onto the grass.

The summer night air was crisp but not cold, and felt good against his skin. He let out a sigh, Derek’s hand was pleasantly warm and the feeling extended slightly up his arm.

“You turned into a wolf during the fire.” Stiles’s words wobbled at the memory.

Derek nodded, watching him closely.

The waxing moon illuminated Derek’s face and Stiles was sure it lit up his as well.

“It’s faster to run on four legs than two.” Derek gave a smile and shrugged, probably hoping to lighten the mood.

They walked to the edge of the grass where the trees began when a howl just barely reached Stiles’s ears, he turned to Derek.

“It’s Uncle Peter,” Derek breathed, his body tensing slightly.

Three howls answered the first.

“Can you tell what he wanted?” Stiles asked, peering into the darkness.

“He’s joining Alastor and Miles on their patrol. Mom doesn’t want them to be alone.” Derek fell quiet for a second. “She’s on her way back.”

“Should we go inside?”

Derek gave a dismissive gesture. “We’re fine, and we’re close enough to the house if anything happened we would have backup quickly.”

Stiles nodded, a shiver running down his spine.

“So,” Stiles said, trying to distract himself. “All of your senses are better than mine? A humans?”

“Faster and stronger.”

Stiles could hear Derek trying not to sound like he was bragging, and more of just stating facts. Stiles recalled Derek lifting the beam off Scott’s legs and Talia carrying him to bed.

“I’m adjusting,” he said when Derek gave him a questioning look.  “Kind of have to.” Derek bumped his arm against Stiles as they stepped onto the deck. “Your kids are witches.”

“Who can’t even speak to me.” The sentence came out bitter and sharp. Stiles looked away, trying to reign in his temper. But the thought of what Molly had done to Sam burned hot inside him. He shook his head angrily, biting his tongue.

“Want some ice cream?”

Stiles gave a surprised burst of laughter and shrugged. “Why not?”

They slowly walked back into the house and into the kitchen. Derek dug three kinds of ice cream from the freezer. Stiles took a scoop of each causing Derek to stare in horror before he settled with chocolate.

They sat on the couch, Derek’s bowl had a mound of ice cream so large Stiles was sure he had taken the whole quart. They sat in a comfortable silence in the dark while they ate.

Stiles could feel himself starting to get tired. Goosebumps rose on his arms as he finished eating.

“You cold?” Derek asked, looking around for a blanket.

“I’m okay.” Stiles lied, trying not to shiver when he took the last bite.

Derek leaned closer to him, hesitantly placing an arm around his shoulders.

Stiles was shocked at how warm Derek was, and leaned against him with a soft sigh.

Derek moved Stiles’s bowl from his lap and rested his chin on the top of Stiles’s head, feeling him relax beneath him.

***

Stiles stirred when he heard the door open, he felt Derek’s arm draped across his chest and an odd shape beneath his leg, which turned out to be Derek’s leg. He blinked, realizing he had fallen asleep.

Derek was leaning back into the corner of the couch with Stiles resting on top of him.

Derek stirred when he did.

“Sorry,” Stiles whispered, moving to let Derek sit up.

Stiles could just barely see Talia making her way across the house toward the staircase.

“You going to bed?” Derek asked sleepily.

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered.

Derek rubbed his eyes, trying to decide if he should go to bed as well or just stay on the couch. Finally, Derek stood up when Stiles did, groaning as he stretched.

“Goodnight.”

***

Derek moaned when his eyes shot open at 5:30am, worried he had missed his alarm. It was his scheduled day off and he rolled over, burying his face into his pillow, cursing the manager who had scheduled him to open for the last week or so.

He tossed and turned but the adrenaline that had shot through him when he thought he over slept rendered him up.

He was surprised but not overly shocked to see his dad in the kitchen.

“Trying to get food before it disappears?” Derek joked, sneaking around him to start a pot of coffee.

Mike smiled slightly, pulling toast from the toaster. “Kind of, I’m taking the day off.” The tone he used made Derek stare at him a second longer before deciding if his dad had wanted him to know he would have said something.

Derek took a mug off the shelf and waited for the coffee to brew, sitting at the table.

He could smell Alastor and Miles’s scents hovering in the air, a sigh they had come home while he had been sleeping.

“Uncle Peter not back?” Derek asked.

There was a quick shift in his dad’s scent as he became wary.

“He’s with your mom.”

Derek got up and poured the coffee into the mug before the pot was done filling, making sure to be fast so coffee didn’t drip onto the burner.

“They found the Argents?” Derek asked, unable to help the question. He doubted that was what happened or his dad would be happy to say if the Argents had been ruled into or out of the equasion.

“No,” Mike shook his head. 

A long sigh told Derek his dad was going to cave and tell him what was going on. Clearly his mom hadn’t specified not to tell him or Mike would have growled at him to stop asking questions.

Derek sat back down at the table, leaning his elbows against it. 

“Another witch was taken?” Derek tried again when Mike fell silent.

“No,” Mike set his toast down. “A witch was found dead.”

“One of the ones who was taken?” Derek asked, his mind automatically jumping to Max.

“The ID found on her said Molly Adams.” Mike ran a hand over his face. “I’m waiting for Stiles to wake up so he can come with me to verify the body.”

“Don’t you think you should wake him up?” Derek gasped.

“Nothing will change the fact that she’s dead, if it is her. Talia said to let him and Sam sleep.”

Derek rested his head in his hand, staring blankly at the table.

“If it’s her it could be a warning,” Derek said, voice muffled by his palm. “If they think we’re coming after them, this could be a warning of what they will do to the other two.”

Mike poured himself a cup of coffee. “Peter thought the same thing.”

***

Derek and Laura offered to watch Sam while Stiles went with Mike.

Stiles had thanked them shakily, giving Sam a hug before darting out the door.

Laura made a pillow fort with Ruth, trying to encourage Sam to play with them, but he sat on the couch with the marbles and shook his head, fidgeting with the crystal around his neck.

Derek tried to make lunch around noon when no one had returned. Laura shaped places with him, telling him to play with Ruth and David before he burnt what was left of their food until they went shopping.

Derek had agreed, slipping into the living room.

Sam stared out the backdoor at the pool from where he sat on the couch. A handful of marbles rose from their spot in the bag before falling back down, and new marbles rose.

“Good job,” Derek praised.

Sam’s eyes jolted from the pool, slowly sliding down to the bag in his lap like he hadn’t realized he was doing anything.

“I knew she was dead.” The whisper was so soft Derek almost couldn’t hear it.

He opened his mouth to say they didn’t know if the woman was his mom or not, but a sharp look from Laura told him not to give Sam hope if there was a possibility of it not coming true.

Stiles and Mike came home at two. Derek knew from how Stiles smelt when he entered the house that the woman was Molly.

He let out a long sigh, pulling Ruth into a hug. She giggled, snarling and wiggling playfully against him, puppy fangs bared.

Sam seemed to realize it too because he shot up from the couch and into the bedroom.

Stiles closed his eyes for a second, following Sam.

Derek stood, letting Ruth go and hesitating, wanting to follow Stiles and Sam but knowing they probably wanted space.

“Leave them,” Mike said, and Derek didn’t move.

He lifted Sam’s marbles from the couch and placed them on the counter, our of Ruth’s reach.

In the kitchen, Laura pressed her lips together sadly, staring at Ruth and David. Mike sat on the couch, head in his hands. And Derek flopped in a chair at the table, closing his eyes, not knowing what he would do if he lost his mother as a child.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam emerged red eyed and teary when he came out of the bedroom. Stiles noticed the clean clothes in his arms as he moved silently down the hall and into the bathroom.

Stiles looked up from the dining room table, straightening in surprised but not saying anything.

He tensed when he heard the water turn on.

Laura, elbow deep in a chef salad, glanced at him, realization dawning on her face.

“He sounds okay,” she said, reaching for the hard boiled eggs.

Stiles relaxed, glad she could hear Sam, just incase something happened.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

Laura nodded. “I’ll let you know if anything sounds off.”

Sam came out not much later, his hair dry and still smelling of smoke, but the body wash he had used was a pleasant change. He climbed onto Stiles’s lap, resting his head on his shoulder, burying his face into his neck.

Tim slipped into the house with Miles as Cora darted out, Stiles assumed to meet up with Peter and Alastor. 

Talia came home while everyone was in the living room, Laura kneeling to look in the cabinet for a kids movie for Ruth and Sam. Tim watched Talia closely, he cleared his throat before he spoke.

“The McCouman’s confirmed Gerard Argent was the one to take Arnie. And a female witch they saw in the distance they are almost sure is Kate Argent.” Tim said.

Stiles stilled, hugging Sam closer.

Miles eyed the group, probably wondering what he had missed. 

“Two more witches went missing,” Miles said before Talia could speak. “No witnesses. One was an emissary for the Farland pack, the other was her husband. They left town on vacation a week ago and never came back.” Miles glanced at Talia. “Possibly related.”

“When did Molly go missing?” Talia turned to Stiles.

“Three weeks ago.” Stiles blinked, had it already been three weeks?

“So, Molly was taken first,” Mike began. 

Miles opened his mouth to ask something but Laura snarled and he closed it with a snap, glaring at her.

“Then, the Farlands, followed by Max, and Arnie.” Mike tapped his fingers against his leg. “Five witches, two of them known emissaries, in less than three weeks.” he shook his head as if he had hoped stating the order aloud would give him an idea as to why but he shook his head slowly.

“Did you learn anything else?” Talia asked the pack.

Everyone gave some sort of negative gesture and Talia waved them off. 

The next couple days passed slowly, Stiles had remembered to call into work and request a leave of absence. His boss had asked questions but when Stiles said it involved his boys and was urgent his boss readily agreed.

Sam was waking Stiles periodically through the night from nightmares, both of their anxiety increasing as more time trickled past. 

***

“Sam,” Alan said, gently trying to redirect Sam’s attention back to him.

“I didn’t know Max was upstairs.”

Stiles could see Sam glancing at him from the kitchen table. 

Derek looked up from the recliner opposite Stiles.

“Sam, it’s not your fault.” Stiles said for the third time since the night before. He swallowed, anger bubbling beneath his skin when Sam tried to blame himself. He was the adult, he should have been able to take care of both of them.

“I’d never let him do anything that would put him in danger. I would have brought him downstairs,” Sam continued.

“That would have only put you both in danger.” Stiles said softly. 

Sam turned away from Alan, staring at Stiles. “I didn’t start the fire, and neither did Max.”

“I never thought you did.” Stiles said, his patience growing shorter.

“I can’t hurt him.”

Sam’s words made Stiles’s anger run cold, the similar phrasing dancing with memories across his mind.

“Can’t hurt him like you can’t tell me about magic?” Stiles asked, even Derek and Alan had gone still.

“Not, with, magic.” Sam had to look at Derek to force the words out. “We thought, he was human, I didn’t want to hurt him.”

Stiles wished Molly was alive so he could tell her what stupid, irresponsible spells she had placed on Sam, whether he agreed to it or not. His mind whirled. Alan had said almost any spell Molly placed on Sam would be permanent if she wasn’t there to take it off. 

He gripped the arm rest of the chair until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to yell at Molly, demand to know what the hell she had been thinking.  “Dad?” Sam asked softly.

Stiles hadn’t realized he had stood up.

“Is Talia home?” he asked Derek.

“Not at the moment, I think she’s with Miles and Cora.” Derek watched Stiles, clearly smelling his rage. “Why?”

“I want to join them on patrol.”

“You wouldn’t be able to keep up,” Alan said, tone neutral. “‘Wolves run faster than humans, and for longer distances.”

“I’m going crazy sitting here,” Stiles said. He was angry Sam was blaming himself for Max being kidnapped, angry at Molly for placing spells on Sam, and angry at himself for not being able to save Max himself. He bit his tongue, holding back the rest of the details in front of Sam. “I’m talking to Talia when she comes back.”

“She’ll probably tell you to stay here with Sam.” Derek pointed out.

“They’ve already killed Molly, I’m not going to sit here why they could be killing Max,” Stiles snapped.

Sam flinched, ducking his head and staring at the marbles scattered across the table.

Alan let out a sigh, turning back to Sam.

“Can you move that one?” Alan pointed to a marble, it rose into the air. “What about this one?” Alan picked one up, holding it in the palm of his had. It slowly slid into the air until he closed his hand around it. “Can you do it with your eyes shut?”

Stiles paced the length of the living room.

Sam squinted against the bright sunlight, but shut his eyes.

Stiles saw Alan open his palm, and the marble rolled in his hand, hesitantly rising into the air. When Alan didn’t say anything, Sam cracked an eye to glance at him.

“Is it working?” Sam asked, fighting the sunlight to see the marble.

Alan called an end to their practice session a few minutes later, he didn’t move from his spot at the table, occasionally glancing at Stiles.

“Sam,” he said casually.

Stiles looked at them, still pacing and waiting for Talia to come home.

“How did you know about bond magic?” Alan asked, eyes imploring. “That’s not usually a topic openly discussed.”

Sam fidgeted with the crystal around his neck.

“My mom, told me about it.” Sam glanced past Alan to the pool.  Stiles held his breath. “Sam,” he said when he didn’t elaborate.

Sam fidgeted with the table cloth.

“When I felt into the pool, mom said I wasn’t breathing, or responding to CPR.”  Stiles stopped pacing, the event coming to the surface of his memory with each word Sam said.  “She said she handed you Max and held me while you ran to flag down the ambulance. That you guys didn’t know what to do since nothing was working. She went deaf in her right ear right away, the left side was gradual, like, the magic, didn’t want to take it all at once. But she said I started coughing up the water.”  Stiles saw Molly holding Sam, helping him sit up as water gushed from his mouth, trying to breath as water poured from his lungs.

“She said her hearing was worth my life. But it was hard for her to get used to it. She started avoiding phone calls and situations where she would have to read lips.” Sam took a deep breath. Stiles could see the struggle building as he prepared to mention magic again. “Some times she could randomly hear Max or I, or you, after her hearing was gone. She couldn’t find figure out why, maybe because we’re family?” Sam glanced at Alan who was staring at Sam.

“I don’t know,” Alan admitted. “Could have been the spell was still taking effect, like you said, sometimes they come on gradually.” 

Sam flicked a marble across the table lazily, Alan caught it, and Stiles resumed pacing.  Alan asked Derek for paper and crayons after a while. Stiles stood at the kitchen counter, watching them and wishing Talia would come back so he could talk to her.  “Copy me,” Alan instructed, drawing a squiggly set of lines in red crayon.

Sam copied the design.

“What is it?” Stiles asked, Sam drew the design a few more times.

“It’s a simple sigil. Each persons magic is connected to the main elements, usually one element is stronger than the others. Knowing which element gives the caster an idea on what spells will be easiest to learn and what ones they might struggle with. If you ask someone who’s fire oriented to help a sapling grow faster, there’s a good chance they will have more issues than someone water or earth orientated.”

Stiles nodded, seemed realistic. He nearly laughed at the thought recalling how stubborn he had been when Sam and Max tried explaining they had magic to begin with. Now he was sitting here having a conversation about how it works. He glanced at Derek. In a house of werewolves, he realized. He ran a hand over his face in thought.

“This time,” Alan said, “when you draw it, have your magic flow into the crayon and onto the paper.”

Stiles’s eyes flicked back to the table.

Sam drew the design again, eyes slightly wide in concentration.

“It’s glowing.” Sam stared.

Stiles leaned around him, looking at the paper himself. The design looked the same to him, nothing out of place. He opened his mouth to ask Alan why he couldn’t see it when the paper began to get soggy. It started with the sigil, then worked outward, spreading to the edges of the paper.

“Water?” Stiles nearly snorted at the irony.

Alan ad Sam practice more sigils, without magic, then they moved on to trying to freeze ice cubes, with magic.

Laura and Tim wandered into the kitchen with David, and Stiles began helping them prepare dinner, needing something to do before he wore a rut in their floor from pacing.

Talia and Mike came home shortly after dinner was started.

Stiles looked up from the kitchen, setting the rolls down and turning to Talia as she set her stuff down.

“I want to start looking for Max with you.” 

Talia regarded him for a second with an expression Stiles couldn’t place. 

“Fine, see if someone will watch Sam.”

“What?” Derek gasped, eyes flashing. “He could be killed out there, we’re up against people who are killing witches, and you give him permission to- Sam already lost his mom, now his brother is missing, you want to risk him losing his father?”  Talia snarled at Derek and Stiles spun to face him.

“I’ll watch Sam,” Laura volunteered from behind the lasagna, seemingly ignoring the anger and tension that had sprung up in the room.

“Thanks, Laura.” Stiles said.

Talia directed her attention solely on Derek. “If you or your siblings went missing your father or I would raise hell to find you.”  “Yes, but what if Sam doesn’t want his dad to risk his life to find Max?”  “That’s not Sam’s choice.”  “That’s selfish.”

Talia’s eyes flashed red. “It’s Stiles’s choice. Sam is safe here and should Stiles choose to join the patrol to search for the argents, he is welcome to.”  “We’re ‘wolves, we can hold our own against the Argents, Stiles is human.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles demanded.

Derek waved his arms in a helpless gesture. “It means, you don’t have the advantages we do.” Derek looked flustered and confused.  “I don’t need any advantages.” Stiles spat.

Derek threw his hands into the air, stomping into the living room.

“Miles and Alastor will be back in a few hours.” Talia said, tearing her eyes away from the direction Derek had gone. “You can leave with Peter and Cora.” She moved off with a low growl after Derek.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I am well aware my grammar sucks))

Cora blinked in surprised the first night she saw Stiles standing in the doorway, ready to go. Mike had let him borrow some cargo pants and fingerless gloves to protect the palms of his hand, and as much as Derek grumbled about him putting himself in danger, he handed Stiles a pair of hiking boots.   “I’ve never worn them, they don’t stink.” Derek said, as if he thought Stiles would be worried about that.  “Thanks,” Stiles said awkwardly.

Peter hadn’t seemed surprised at all. Stiles began to wonder if the man was ever caught off guard. If he was, he hid it well. He thought he heard Peter tell Cora, “I’m surprised he didn’t want to go sooner.” But when Stiles turned to look at them Peter was as straight faced as ever.

Stiles kissed Sam on the top of the head and gave him a hug. “Be good, I’ll be back soon.”  “Promise?” Sam asked, eyes searching Stiles’s face.

“Yes.”

Stiles released him, following Cora and Peter to the door.   “Just a second,” Peter announced, climbing the stairs two at a time. 

He returned with a hard cased black box. He balanced it on the banister as he opened it to reveal a hand gun.  “Where’d you get that?” Cora demanded.

Peter considered the question. “A friend.”

He dropped the magazine and opened the bullet chamber to show Stiles it was empty.

“9 mm. Don’t shoot us, please.” Peter pulled a box of bullets from his pocket and handed it to Stiles, motioning for him to step outside before loading it.  They walked down the driveway, their feet padding almost silently on the concrete. Stiles noticed Peter and Cora were barefoot but didn’t ask why, assuming he would find out soon enough on his own.

“We’re meeting Alastor and Miles at the river where we last saw Max.” Peter said, he pulled his shirt over his head, and began to strip off his pants. “Should have left these inside.”

Stiles saw Cora shrug and begin stripping as well. Once their clothes were folded on the front seat of someone’s car and the car door shut, they shifted into wolves.

They were huge, Stiles thought, then realized he had never actually seen a wolf before, and when Derek had shifted he had been preoccupied. 

Stiles put the now loaded gun in the waist band of his pants and stuffed the bullets into one of the many pockets on Mike’s pants.

Cora was slightly smaller than Peter, Stiles noted, trying to find differences in their wolf forms so he could tell them apart. Both had grey fur with darker or lighter patches across their face and tip of their tail. But they differences weren’t drastic enough for Stiles to remember quickly, so he focused on size.

Peter jerked his head, Stiles followed. 

Peter and Cora trotted across the yard, clearly mindful of Stiles struggling to keep up. Stiles grinned at Cora when she glanced back at him. He was nearly running to keep up but he refused to slow them down any more.   Sweat had his hair plastered to his head and his shirt was soaked in multiple spots across his chest and back by the time the river came into view. He let out a triumphant laugh, but the sound only came out as a burst of air.

Two shadows of movement by the water caught his attention, two wolves were watching them, their eyes solid yellow. Stiles tried to figure out if it was the reflection of the moonlight or if they were actually glowing. Peter’s and Cora’s eyes weren’t glowing at the moment. 

When the wolves approached, they’re eyes lost their luminescence and Stiles shrugged it off. 

They met Alastor and Miles halfway. The four grey wolves met each other in a crash of noses, teeth, and paws. They bumped against each other, clearly communicating in a way Stiles didn’t understand. 

He watched the flicking of their ears and tails. One of them bumped against him, rising up to sniff his face. Stiles met his eyes and was met with Alastor’s young, curious, stare that he had noticed the first day he arrived at the Hale’s house.

Miles snarled, whirling around to stare at Peter. Peter snarled back, ears flattening and chest rising. Miles looked away, a clear sign of submission before spinning toward Alastor, snapping his teeth at his tail. Alastor dropped to his paws, facing the group.

Miles began running first, back the way Stiles, Cora, and Peter had come. Alastor gave a small yip, following his brother quickly, occasionally glancing back at Stiles. 

Peter growled, trotting toward the edge of the water, nose in the air and nostrils flaring. Cora sniffed the ground, spreading out to either side of Peter. Stiles followed them both, hand hovering between his side and the gun in his waist band. 

They walked for what felt like hours along the water, before turning into the tree line. Stiles gasped when he tripped over a fallen branch, falling to his hands and knees.

Cora was at his side in seconds, sniffing his face. He waved her off.  “I’m fine,” he said, shoving himself to his feet.

Cora huffed a sigh, Stiles glared at her.

“I don’t know why you’re sighing,” he informed her.

Peter gave a low rumble, Stiles assumed to tell him to be quiet.

Cora’s ears twitched as she listed to something, and she nudged Stiles after Peter, running at his side until they caught up.

Stiles was breathing heavily as they ran up a hill, the wind tugged at his clothes. When they reached the top, Cora snapped her teeth close to Stiles’s hand. He jumped, jerking back.

“What the hell?” he gasped.

Cora sprinted away from him, Peter was already yards away. Stiles saw a blur of movement as Peter tackled something.

Snarls and flashes of teeth and fangs made Stiles freeze, bracing himself for a fight as he sorted out a black wolf wrestling with Peter and Cora. The strange wolf pressed themselves to the ground on their stomach, baring their teeth as Peter and Cora towered over them.

Stiles glanced around, half expecting to see another wolf. Cora backed away when the black wolf rolled onto their side, tilting their head back to expose their neck.

Peter was snarling, fur bristled.

The wolf on the ground whined, tail tucking.  Cora trotted back to Stiles, bumping against him until he was moving further up the trail. Peter snapped his teeth at the wolf, when they tried to move. Peter threw his head back and howled. 

Stiles flinched at the sound, stopping when Cora did, a safe distance away from them. A howl answered a few minutes later. Stiles wondered who it was and glanced at Cora. Cora blinked up at him, glancing back and forth between him and Peter, wondering who she should stay with.

The sound of paws against the ground was almost nonexistent, Stiles stared when a wolf even larger than Peter broke darted between the trees and ran snarling up to the wolf still on the ground.

The wolf rolled on it’s back.

Talia, Stiles realized watching Peter take half a step back out of her way and Cora lower her head when she passed. Talia was taller and broader than Peter in her wolf form, fitting for an alpha. Another wolf stood half behind a tree. Stiles jumped and cursed, having not seen them approach.   Cora bumped her head against his hand as he struggled to figure out who the other wolf was. 

The black wolf didn’t move as Talia sniffed them, fangs bared and fur bristled like Peter’s had been. 

The black wolf suddenly shifted, their fur and tail melting away to reveal a young woman laid flat on the forest floor.

“I want to help you look for the Argents.” The woman’s voice was soft and she refused to meet any of the wolves eyes, turning her head the other direction whenever Talia or Peter entered her line of sight.

Talia snarled loudly, eyes glowing red.

“I’m Marcy McCouman, my mate was killed by them- found dead in the backyard. Joshua doesn’t know I came here.” The woman turned her head again when the wolf hovering in the distance stepped forward. “I heard you had a run in with the Argents as well.”

Peter looked at Talia, head lowered and tilted questioningly. 

Talia looked at Stiles and Cora. Cora gave a small whine, Stiles just blinked, taking a deep breath. The Argents had killed a werewolf now?

Talia growled. Peter and the wolf Stiles didn’t know reacted immediately, circling Marcy and herding her to her feet. Cora bumped against Stiles again, nipping at his pant leg when he didn’t move.

Marcy stayed in her human form as the pack circled her, waiting for Stiles and Cora to get a head start in the direction of home before following.

***

Cora shifted back to her human form as soon as they stepped on the driveway. Stiles looked away as she grabbed her clothes from the car and began pulling them on. She didn’t seem to care if he saw her naked but he felt awkward none the less.

The front door flew open, Miles taking up the doorway.

“What happened?” he demanded, crossing the porch.

“A McCouman wolf was on our territory.” Cora said, pulling her pants on. “Claims that her mate was killed by the Argents, and left in the backyard, and she wants to help us look for them.”  Miles glared, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “Mom and Laura dealing with her?”

Cora nodded. “And Uncle Peter. I think they’re still trying to decide what to do with her.”  “I don’t trust her,” Miles said flatly, watching Cora as she pushed past him to enter the house.

Stiles followed, glancing around the dark house as they entered. Only the light in the kitchen was on. 

“Of course you don’t,” Cora said, as if Miles didn’t trust anybody. “It’s not your decision though.” She threw her younger brother a glare, crossing the house to the kitchen and opening the fridge. “There any left overs from dinner? I’m starved.”

“You’re brushing off a wolf entering our territory and practically demanding our information and our trust.” Miles snapped, eyes flashing as he stalked after Cora.

“I’m not ‘brushing it off’ it’s being handled.” Cora said, pulling a four hot pockets from the freezer. “You want something, Stiles? I’m always hungry after running.”  It took Stiles a second to realize the four hot pockets were for her and she had no intention of sharing.   “I’m fine,” Stiles said, glancing into the living room. “Sam in bed?”  
Miles gave a brisk nod, his attention never leaving his sister. “Are Alastor and I going back out since you came home?” he scowled in irritation. 

“Wait for mom and ask her,” Cora said, punching the cook time into the microwave.

Miles growled, spinning on his heel and stomping off. Stiles heard him climbing the stairs and glanced at Cora.

Cora shrugged. “You can go to bed if you want, or wait up. I don’t think mom would care. I’m going to bed after I eat.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay, thank you.” He wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for and Cora waved him off with a small smile.

Sam was sleeping in the center of the bed when he entered the bedroom, every blanket and pillow tucked around him in some way. Stiles grinned, taking off his dirty clothes and slipping into clean ones. 

He heard the front door open and close as someone left. There was a collective snarl and Stiles realized Talia, Peter, and Laura must be in the driveway.   “Seriously?” He heard Miles ask. “Why is she here?”

Talia gave a loud snarl and Miles didn’t say anything else.

“She could be useful.” Peter’s voice floated in dim and muffled, Stiles had to strain to hear him. 

Stiles leaned back against the headboard, running a hand lightly over Sam’s head. 

“You’re letting her in? In the house?” Miles’s asked incredulously. 

“She won’t try anything,” Peter promised.

Stiles wiggled uncomfortably. The McCoumans’s had suffered, now multiple times, at the hands of the Argents, maybe Marcy was genuinely willing to help them. 

“I will be contacting Joshua,” Talia said, either to Miles or Marcy Stiles didn't know.

He listened as the front door opened and closed again, this time as they entered the house. He wondered what room Marcy was going to stay in. He tilted his head back, staring at he ceiling, hoping Marcy could be of help.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did think this was on my other computer that crashed and died in a horrible death. So I figured this was better late and needing work than never.

Marcy stayed in the room the Hales offered her, coming out only when asked to do so and not asking for anything herself. 

Stiles wondered if most wolf behavior was like that when they were in someone else's house. Derek was clearly still upset that Stiles had gone on the patrol but wasn’t making too big of a deal about it. Perhaps Talia had talked to him more. 

Stiles brushed it off as he got ready to leave for patrol again.

A routine had developed over the next few days, Marcy would come out for meals, but take her food back to her room, then would come out again when they were ready to leave for patrol. Talia had granted her permission to join them as long as Peter was okay with it. Talia had expressed that she was to listen to Peter, Cora, and Stiles and if she didn’t there would be serious consequences.   Stiles hadn’t heard the conversation between Talia and Joshua but from the looks on the pack members faces neither of the alphas were too happy she had come here. Stiles thought at one point he heard Tim whisper that she should have just stayed out of it, but when he turned to look at the other man his expression and body language gave no hints that he had even spoken.

On the third day of Marcy’s stay Sam hovered at the foot of the steps, shifting from sitting to standing, to scooting down the last four steps on his bottom. 

“You okay?” Stiles asked, stuffing the gun back in his waist line.

Sam nodded, fidgeting with the necklace around his neck.

Laura walked by with Ruth sleeping in her arms.

“Be safe,” she whispered, walking back to the bedroom to lay Ruth down. She glanced at Marcy warningly. 

Marcy looked away, her face hidden behind a thin curtain of black hair. 

“Be good,” Stiles told Sam, holding his arms out to give him a hug.

“I’m always good.” Sam muttered, embracing Stiles.

Tim walked by, glancing curiously at the crystal clutched in Sam’s hand.

“Do you know where-” Tim began to ask, Stiles looked up in time to see his eyes glaze over, his expression faltered as his question changed. “Where Laura went?”  The question was odd and Stiles frowned.

“I think she went to lay Ruth down.” He said after a second.

He could see the look of confusion on Tim’s face but the man thanked him and walked off down the hall.

“Alan warned us not to ask, that we wouldn’t remember if we tried.” Cora said, having also noticed Tim had changed his question at last second. “Still strange to see it though.”

Stiles frowned, glancing at Sam. Sam only looked away and shrugged, like he had become sadly used to people’s half finished questions and quick change of topics.

“It hides your magic smell.” Cora said, grinning at Sam. “It doesn’t just hide your visible magic.”

Sam looked up quickly, surprise filling his eyes. 

“Really?” he breathed.

“The crystal smells like magic, but probably two thirds of humans wear something with magic and don’t realize it. Crystals or otherwise.” Cora shrugged. “Family heirlooms they don’t know anything about, stuff they got at thrift shops that were accidentally dropped off.” She grinned almost smugly. “And I don’t think I’ve passed one who realized it.”

Sam grinned, his fidgeting stopped. Laura reentered the room, Tim trailing her and rubbing his forehead and sinus’s like they hurt.

Stiles noticed Marcy stiffen but she didn’t comment or move from her position by the door. He looked at Cora and Peter.

“Ready?”

They followed the same path down to the river that they had taken the past few days. Marcy had shifted into her wolf from when Peter and Cora did when they reached the end of the driveway. He wondered why they took the same path and didn’t switch it up incase they were followed.

Cora’s ears twitched like she was listening to something and Stiles relaxed. They would know if they were being followed. 

Alastor and Miles paced between the water and the treelike, both looked up seconds after they had come into view. 

Stiles wondered if they had heard or scented their approach and made a mental note to ask.

Just like before, Miles and Alastor greeted him, Peter, and Cora, ignoring Marcy as she tried to make herself as small as possible, lowering herself to the ground on her belly.

Miles growled at her once, and Alastor ignored her completely, sniffing Stiles’s hands and waistline where the gun was hidden.

Peter growled warningly at Alastor and he backed away, briefly bumping into Cora before running up the path Stiles had just come down. Miles snarled, tearing after him in a flash of paws and fur.

Stiles followed Peter and Cora along the water, eyes scanning for any possible clues. Marcy kept slightly to the right of them, closer to the tree line. They took a different direction today, following the river East, exploring the hills to the right and the sandbars that stretched out into the water on the left, trying to catch sight or scent of the Argents.

Cora sniffed around the edges of a rock, her body went tense, head shooting up and ears twitching, listening to something Stiles couldn’t hear.

She tilted her head at Peter and Marcy, running further up the river, paws splashing in the soddened earth.

Marcy ran after her, Peter waited to make sure Stiles was following before beginning to run himself.

Stiles’s heart thumped in his chest. What had they heard? 

Cora skidded to a stop, head whipping to look at the trees.

A flash of light was all the warning they had before something plowed into Cora, tumbling her into the water. She yipped and snarled, fighting what looked like a white ball of light.

Stiles froze, eyes straining to see where the light had shot from.

Peter leapt toward the trees with a snarl, Marcy hot on his heels.

“Dad!”

Stiles jumped at Max’s voice, eyes still searching the trees.

“Where are you?” Stiles yelled, sure the voice had come from close by.

There was another flash of light, it illuminated the trees and reflected brightly off the water. Two figures stood in-between the tree trunks. One the size of an adult, the other, “Max,” Stiles gasped.

“Kill him.” The man said.

Light crackled loudly around Max’s hands like fire crackers. Peter and Marcy were charging toward them, Gerard didn’t look surprised or alarmed. 

“Kill them, too.” He said cooly.

The light shot from Max’s hands toward him, just like the ball of light that had been shot at Cora. 

A heavy figure plowed into Stiles from the side, sending them flying painfully onto the ground.

The figure, Derek, Stiles recognized, held him to the ground, leaning over him protectively and glaring at the two figures in the trees.

Peter and Marcy were almost next to Gerard and Max. Derek’s weight was suddenly gone, Stiles saw him running toward them as well, already shifted into his wolf form.

Stiles shoved himself onto his side, trying to stand up. He watched as Max brought his hands up casually. 

The ground beneath Derek’s paws liquified, his feet sunk into the dirt with a sickening squish. Derek struggled, his paws and legs sinking deeper into the ground the more he struggled. He snarled and twisted, thrashing against the quick sand like dirt. He staggered to his side, head tilted back trying to keep his face from going under. 

Max lowered his hand and the ground solidified, trapping Derek up to his neck in the dirt.

“Max!” Stiles yelled.

Max tiled his head, the light from his hands reflecting off his eyes.

Stiles gaped, Max’s eyes were solid black, void of life and expression. 

Peter leapt at Gerard from behind. Max gave another brisk wave of his hand, his fingers drawing intricate patterns in the air. Peter soared through the air in the opposite direction, crashing into the ground hard enough to make Stiles flinch and Derek whine.

Gerard laughed, dodging Marcy like she wasn’t anything more than a fly.

Stiles pulled the gun from his waistband, cocking it and aiming at Gerard.

Max frowned slightly.

“No, daddy,” he said, his voice echoed through the trees despite how soft and sweetly he spoke. “You’ll regret it.”

Stiles pulled the trigger. The first bang was ear splitting, but he knew the gun was aimed at Gerard. He pulled the trigger several times in rapid succession, each shot a point blank shot of Gerard’s head.

Marcy collapsed to the ground several feet away, eight bullet holes in her head.

“I said no.” Max said, his forehead wrinkling. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

Cora burst from behind him in a whirlwind of snarls and growls, she jumped at Max.

Stiles stared in wide eyed horror as Max moved out of the way. Cora sailed past him, landing she spun around, still snarling.

Stiles wanted to shoot at Gerard again, to stop whatever spell had been placed on Max.

“No, daddy.” Max said in the same sweet tone as before. “You’ll end up shooting someone else.”

Stiles hesitated.

Max grinned. “You don’t have to save me. I’m powerful enough to take care of myself.”

“Maximus,” Stiles growled.

Derek was still struggling in vein to free himself from the ground.

Max smiled at Cora, his black eyes boring into hers.

Cora stopped growling, turning to face Peter who looked like he was regaining consciousness from his fall. She snarled at him. Peter snarled back as Cora stepped in front of Max to protect him.

“I love you, daddy.” Max said, raising his hands. 

Magic danced between them as he stepped forward, walking just out of Derek’s reach.

Cora and Peter were fighting next to Gerard who watched in bemusement.

“Don’t be sad, Sam’s safe.” max said, bringing his hands down on either side of Stiles’s face.

Stiles screamed, pain surged through his head and down his body. His muscles locked up and his thoughts began to slow. He felt his body twitch as his muscles gave up and he fell onto the grass.

“Why didn’t you kill him?” Gerard asked.

Stiles could hear footsteps walking away, though his vision was black and he realized his eyes were closed.

“I will, but not tonight. Tonight, I just wanted to tell himI was okay. Give him something he can sleep on.”

Someone laughed, or maybe it was both of them, and a wolf snarled.

***

Stiles felt the soft give of a mattress beneath him.

He groaned as every muscle in his body screamed in pain.

“Stiles,” he recognized Alan’s voice.

Did Alan find them in the woods? No, his brain corrected, there are no mattresses in the woods. he could have brought one, a part of his brain argued, trying to drift back to sleep.

“Stiles,” Alan began again.

Stiles tried to roll over, flinching when the movement hurt.

“What?” he moaned, trying to open his eyes.

He squinted against the light in the room. His room, he realized.

“For the love of the gods, Alan,” Talia said sharply. “Let me help him. He’s in pain.”

Stiles cringed at the tone of her voice.

“Peter, Cora and Derek have all given you an account of what happened. Why bother him?”

“I don’t want his account f what happened.” Alan said briskly.

Stiles felt a hand on his, taking his pulse.

“Then why are you waking him up?” Talia sounded pissed.

“To make sure he can wake up.” 

Stiles felt his heart skip a beat, why wouldn’t he be able to wake up?

“At least let me take his pain.” Talia said, her voice now soft.

Alan sighed. “Stiles, I want you to squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Stiles felt Alan’s hand being placed in his own, he gave a light squeeze, staring at Alan through half lidded eyes.

“Good job.” Alan praised, though not nearly in as happy as a tone as when he told Sam he did something well.

“Go ahead, Talia.” Alan said, peering into Stiles’s eyes.

Stiles felt Talia place her hands on either side of his face, he flinched, her hands were in almost the exact same position as Max’s had been in.

He struggled against her, but his body throbbed with each movement and Talia’s grip didn’t waver.

The pain began to ebb from his body. Slowly at first, then rapidly, leaving his head light and the room spinning.

He blinked up at her blearily.

“Dad?”

His eyes snapped toward the doorway.

Sam watched him in concern.

“Laura,” Talia growled, but Sam was already across the room, throwing his arms around Stiles’s neck. “Dad,” he cried, burring his face into Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles shut his eyes, Max’s words playing in his head. “Don’t be sad, Sam is safe.”


	14. Chapter 14

Stiles regained consciousness for no more than a few minutes at a time, just long enough to catch bits of conversation or hear footsteps pass in the hallway.

A few times he woke up to Sam pressed against him, or sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him in concern.

At some point Stiles woke up enough to see Laura come in and kneel beside Sam who was curled at Stiles’s feet and ask him if he wanted to play a game with her and Ruth. Sam had seemed reluctant to go, but Stiles nudged him with his foot and Sam glanced at him, taking the encouragement and getting up to follow Laura out of the room.

The next time Stiles woke he swore he saw Derek standing in the doorway, but he wasn’t awake long enough to know for sure that it wasn’t a dream.

“Dad.”

He felt small hands shaking his shoulder.

“I have food if you’re hungry.”

He heard a plate being placed on the stand next to the table.

“Alan says you should eat.” There was a scuffle of movement. “If you can. I just thought you might be hungry.”

Stiles reached out, taking Sam’s hand in his and squeezing gently.

“Thank you.” He wasn’t sure if he spoke loud enough for Sam to hear him but Sam laid on top of him, hugging him tightly. He could feel himself slipping into sleep again and dimly wondered what Max had done to him.

“Other packs are here.” Sam was speaking again, his voice coming from somewhere by the window. “Talia said they’re going to help. That Marcy belonged to one of them. Laura said some would have to sleep outside. Do you think they mind? I would mind sleeping outside, it gets cold at night, even in the summer….” Sam’s voice trailed off.

Stiles groaned, his whole body felt numb, his eyes fluttered open and he stared around the empty bedroom.

“Sam?” he croaked.

No reply came, Stiles shoved himself to the edge of the bed, using the momentum from swinging his legs off the side to help himself sit up. The room tilted and spun as blood rushed to his head. 

Stiles gripped the edge of the mattress, steading himself and blinking until his vision cleared. He took a deep breath, easing onto his feet. His hand flew out to brace himself on the wall when he pitched to the side, his legs unsteady after not being used for so long.

He limped toward the door, still leaning on the wall for support. He fumbled with the doorknob, his fingers unable to grasp the knob with enough grip to turn the handle. He cursed under his breath.

The handle turned and the door swung open. Stiles jerked back in surprise. A hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, saving him from hitting the floor.

“You okay?” Derek asked, surveying him as he tried to help Stiles regain his footing.

Stiles nodded, breathing to quickly to reply. 

“You want to lay back down?” Derek’s eyebrows pulled into a thoughtful frown.

Stiles shook his head. He was okay, he got his feet firmly beneath him and tried to wave Derek off.

“I’m okay,” he gasped, frustrated with how breathless he had become. “Where’s Sam?”

“Living room.” Derek glanced down the hall, allowing Stiles to lean against his arm. “Want to go there?”

Stiles nodded, hobbling through the doorway and down the hall. Flinching every few steps when his muscles protested. Derek was walking slowly, mindful of Stiles struggling. 

Stiles wiped his cheek and chin against his shoulder, trying to rid himself of the beads of sweat that had appeared.

“I can take the pain away.” Derek said when they stopped for a second time. 

Stiles could see the living room, it was filled with people he hadn’t met. He had dim memories of Sam telling him other packs were here and an even dimmer memory of Talia arguing with Alan about wanting to take his pain away.

“I think your mom did that to me already.” Stiles said, shamelessly leaning against Derek when his legs began to shake.

“It seems to have worn off,” Derek informed him, not unkindly.

Stiles huffed a laugh.

“It’s only temporary,” Derek said, holding his free hand palm up in an unmistakable offer.

Stiles glanced from his hand to his face before placing his hand on Derek’s.

Black lines appeared and trailed up Derek’s arm, disappearing under the sleeve of his shirt. The pain flooded from Stiles like a faucet being turned on, and now Stiles was sure Derek was the only thing holding him up.

“Damn,” Stiles breathed.

Derek grumbled something and waited for Stiles to try to take a step before moving himself.

Laura rose from her seat on the couch when she saw Stiles and Derek approach.

“I’m going to help Miles in the kitchen,” she announced, motioning for Stiles to take her place.

Sam looked up from an arm chair and hopped down, crossing the living room to sit on Stiles’s lap the second he sat down.

“Are you feeling better?” Sam asked, tucking his feet under the person who was sitting at the other end of the couch.

Stiles thought about telling him to pull his feet back but the stranger didn’t care and Stiles wasn’t sure he had the energy to. Instead, he nodded in reply to Sam’s question, eyes scanning the strangers in the living room curiously. He could see tents and campers set up in the back yard around the pool and it seemed almost every sitting area or floor space was occupied. He looked curiously toward the dining room and saw a curtain had been placed in the open doorway.

“Mom and the other alphas are having a meeting,” Derek said, noticing Stiles glance at the curtain.

Stiles frowned, if they were talking about Max he felt he should be part of the conversation as well.

“After we were attacked mom called the neighboring packs for help.” Derek leaned against the couch, watching Stiles, probably wondering if he was up for this conversation so soon.

None of the other werewolves seemed concerned or interested in what Derek was saying. Stiles decided they were probably already caught up on the matter.

“I told him already,” Sam said, tilting his head back to look at Derek. “And that not everyone is here.”

“How come?” Stiles asked, “Why not the whole pack?”

“Those who are good at tracking have joined the patrol to try and follow Gerard and Max, but so far no one has sent word on if they found anything. But yes, all three packs are here.” 

The girl at the end of the couch flashed a brief smile at Stiles and Derek before turning her attention back to the weather channel.

Stiles felt his stomach clench. 

“What are they going to do when they find them?” Stiles asked.

His mind jumped to how ready Derek, Cora, and Peter had been to fight back. How Cora had leapt directly at Max. If Max hadn’t been using magic to defend himself they could have hurt him. Max was trying to hurt them first, Stiles’s mind corrected, the image of Marcy’s dead body on the ground dancing through his head.

Derek tensed, possibly smelling his unease.

“That’s what Alan, mom, and the alphas are talking about.” 

“Max was under a spell,” Stiles said quickly, anxiety spiking. “Surely they wouldn’t hurt him.”

“That’s what Alan is arguing.” Derek’s words made Stiles freeze, he placed his chin on the top of Sam’s head and taking a steading breath.

Stiles could feel Derek’s gaze on the side of his head, but neither said anything. If Alan was arguing in favor of Max, that meant the alphas probably didn’t care if he was hurt at this point. Not after killing Marcy and attacking them. And possibly the emissaries deaths. 

Sam was watching the TV and seemed distracted.

“They want to hurt him?” Stiles said it so softly he was sure Sam didn’t hear but he hoped Derek did. He couldn’t bring himself to ask if they would go as far as to kill Max.

Derek tilted his head slightly. “They don’t want any more people to die.”

Derek placed a hand on Stiles’s arm, trying to offer him some kind of support.

“Alan said Max probably had nothing to do with the witches deaths, that from what he’s been told the witches were needed for the spell that was placed on Max.” 

Sam didn’t move at Derek’s words, Stiles guess he had probably already heard them, or was there when Alan was speaking.

“Blood magic?” The question came out softly, Stiles’s hands balled into fists. The Argents used magic on his baby against his will.

Derek watched him carefully. “Alan thinks so.”

Stiles’s head was beginning to clear. The previous conversation about blood magic flittering in as the brain fog cleared.

“Is it reversible?” Stiles’s mind screamed, it had better be reversible. 

Derek looked away, his expression conveying he didn’t know the answer to Stiles’s question.

“I’ll kill them,” Stiles growled.

“We’ll help.” 

Stiles jumped for a second time, Peter stood just behind the couch, clearly listening to them talk.

“Talia’s going to call a packs meeting when they’re done.” Peter said, head tilted like he was listening to what the alphas and Alan were saying.

“Can you hear them?” Stiles asked eagerly, hoping Peter would tell him what they were saying.

“Oh, yes,” Peter grinned.

Stiles frowned when Peter didn’t elaborate. “They why is a pack meeting necessary if everyone already know’s what’s going on?” Stiles heard the bitterness enter his tone. Everyone knew more about what was going on than he did, and it was his kid involved. The McCoumans and Farlands lost someone, too, his brain supplied. He shoved the thoughts away bitterly.

Peter raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s technically rude to eavesdrop,” Peter said lightly. “But, as almost every little brother will probably agree, I am nosey as to what my sister is talking about.”

“Pause it! Go back!”

“They don’t have that kind of service!” someone gasped, probably the person with the remote.

“Mom!”

“Satomi!”

The living room exploded in nose, Stiles stared at the TV screen trying to figure out what was going on. The news anchor was talking, a picture of a man taking up the top right corner of the page.

Who every had the remote was turing it up, the volume bar sliding up.

Talia, Alan, and four others stood in the once open doorway, holding the curtain to the side so they could see.

“SILENCE!” A petite woman demanded.

Talia’s eyes flashed and the alpha’s glared at their pack members, silently demanding silence.

“-the body of the young man was found dead in the Columbia river this morning. Experts are unable to find evidence of foul play, and are investigating his death as a possible drowning.” The news reporter said, adjusting the papers on his desk. “Back to you, Jamie.”

Whoever had the remote muted the TV.

“That’s Ennis!” a young man blurted. “The picture they showed, that was Ennis.”

“It was him,” a girl agreed, staring at the petite alpha.

Talia’s lips were pressed in a thin line, her eyes solid red.

“If that’s the kid, it’s blood magic for sure.” A man in dark sunglasses commented.

“From witches to werewolves to alphas, that’s a big jump.”

“Satomi, he took out emissaries, an alpha isn’t that far of a stretch. and I don’t believe Ennis had an emissary, that would make him an easier target.” Sunglasses argued, tapping a cane against the ground, Stiles guessed he was Deucalion.

The other two alpha’s growled in agreement.

“It’s not actually Max,” Stiles snapped. “The Argents witched him.”

Every eye in the room turned toward him, even Deucalion looked his direction.

“You must be Stiles,” Deucalion said pleasantly.

Satomi gave a low rumble and Talia stared at Stiles from her spot by the dining room. The hair on Stiles’s arms stood on end, his skin prickling like he was the prey and they were the hunters.

“Now, now,” Deucalion muttered, tilting his head in the other alpha’s directions. “It’s only natural for a parent to defend their child. And yes, Stiles, we are well aware of the fact that Max has a spell placed on him.”

Stiles blinked, surprised Deucalion wasn’t getting upset like the others had done.

“Let’s sit down and add this new event to our list of things to discuss.” 

Sam wiggled uncomfortably in Stiles’s lap, trying to hide his face in his shirt and playing with the crystal.

The living room erupted in conversation at Deucalion’s words, a mixture of questions on if the meeting was done, if anyone had heard from those on patrol, and what the next step would be in finding Max and the Argents.

Laura crossed the room deafly, walking straight up to Talia and speaking to her. Stiles couldn’t hear what she was saying over the din that had erupted but he saw Talia watch her eldest daughter then nod, glancing at Stiles.

Laura made her way back across the room toward Stiles and Sam.

“Tim, me, the kids, and a few others are going to get out of the house for a bit. Sam’s welcome to come along if that’s okay and he wants to.” Laura said when she was within earshot. “I just checked with mom, she said it was fine. We can be filled in on the details with those on patrol when they get back.”  Stiles looked at Sam and nodded.

“Do you want to go?” he asked.

Sam looked up from his hiding spot and glanced at Laura before climbing off Stiles’s lap and waited by Laura’s side for her to lead the way to the door.

“We’ll keep him safe,” Laura promised, slipping away from the couch, Sam at her heels as the front door closed behind them and a handful of others. Tim had both of his kids on his hips and he smiled at Stiles as he passed.

Talia, Satomi, Deucalion, Alpha Farland, and Alpha McCouman stepped into the center of the living room. 

“Joshua,” Talia said softly, a gentle push for him to speak. 

“Well,” Joshua said, “If we’re finishing the discussion out here. My pack has already lost Arnie to Gerard and Kate before Max got involved. Then we lost Marcy.” He was the McCouman pack alpha, Stiles realized. “They’re clearly using the kid as a tool right now. We learned from their attack on the Hales we won’t be able to get close to them as long as they’re using Max to their advantage. No one was able to get within arms reach of Gerard or Max, in order to stop the Argents we need Max out of the way.”

“I agree,” Alpha Farland cut in. 

Stiles tensed, the Argents hurt Max, he wasn’t about to sit back while three packs of wolves turned around and hurt him too.

Alpha Farland glanced at him. “We shouldn’t go into a fight with the intent to kill, only to stop. No matter who gets in the way.”

No one in the room commented for a second.

“Was there any link other than relative closeness to the witches that were taken?” a young man on the stairs asked.

Satomi shook her head. “None were found.”

“There’s seven spells that can be used from witch blood to make someone stronger, this strong.” Alan had slipped into the living room while the alpha’s had been talking. “The fact that they have possessed him narrows it down to two. Both spells combine the power of the witches used to make it and basically give all their magic and knowledge to one person.”

The room fell silent again. Alan looked at Stiles, meeting his gaze. The alpha’s had gone still, only Talia looked at him. Stiles felt his stomach drop. From behind him Derek voiced his unasked question.

“Are they reversible?”

“Yes.” Alan now glanced at the alpha’s in the room.

Someone on the couch let their head fall into their hands like they already knew the answer and it wasn’t going to be good.

“A werewolf’s bite will cancel out the magic. All witch magic.”

Stiles caught onto what Alan was saying, Max needed to be turned into a werewolf to break the spell. He swallowed, nodding like he understood. Derek placed a hand on his shoulder in a tentative, unasked question ‘are you okay?’.

Stiles shoved the rage at the Argents into the back of his mind. There was a way to reverse it.

“Does it matter which alpha he’s bitten by?” The question was a genuine one, but the atmosphere in the room shifted and Stiles felt odd for asking it, like he was the only one in the room who didn’t know the answer.

“Ideally, Talia.” Alan said. “This is her territory. Easier for him to transition into her pack, especially since you live in the area.” Alan took a short breath. “That being said, at the point I don’t believe it matters who bites him. With how many packs have now been involved, an alpha bond isn’t set in stone, and can be changed if both alpha’s are willing.” Alan looked back at the alpha’s.

“We have to find him first, though,” Cora jumped in.

“Only engage in combat if you are attacked first.” Talia said, eyes searching the living room to single out her pack.

“Same goes for you,” Joshua said. “We keep the patrols the same, alternate every few hours. We don’t need anybody else dead.”

Satomi and Alpha Farland were also looking amongst the group.

“Elcan, i want you to take a patrol group south,” Alpha Farland said, looking at the young man who had spoken earlier on the stairs.

“Yes, dad.”

“Report back if you find anything.”

Elcan nodded, walking down the steps. Five or six others rose from where they were seated and followed Elcan to the door.

“Carrie, Demarco, Brett, follow the Columbia river west on the north side. Only enter territories you have permission to enter.” Satomi’s eyes flashed warningly and Stiles wondered briefly why she felt the need to specify.

The three Satomi mentioned rose to their feet, following the McCouman pack out front.

“We’ll be continuing like we have been?” Peter asked, leaning back against the wall.

“Yes,” Talia said, glancing at Stiles.

Stiles shifted his weight uneasily, unsure if he would be able to keep up with the patrol tonight.

“Tim can contact Ennis’s pack to see how they are holding up when he gets back.” Talia said.

“Or I could do it.” Deucalion offered. “I know him, too.”

Talia’s eyes flashed. “Tim’s job is communications, I would prefer that he take care of it.”

Deucalion raised an eyebrow.

Anger flashed across Talia’s face. “Tim can do it,” she said firmly.

Deucalion didn’t move for a second then he nodded. “Okay. Are we done then?”

Talia nodded, glancing at the other alpha’s to see if they had anything to add. When no one spoke up, each dismissed their own pack. 

Stiles fell back against the couch. Derek was still hovering behind him.

“I don’t think I can go on the patrol tonight,” Stiles admitted, the pain in his muscles was beginning to return.

“That’s okay.” Derek said, the black lines appeared on his arm again, spreading away from where he had his hand on Stiles’s shoulder still, and the pain faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all that has been written. If you've made it this far, thank you :)


End file.
